Red vs Blue: Reconstruction
by BentleyGirl
Summary: The first part of my novelization of the Recollections trilogy which consists of Reconstruction, Recreation and Revelation. Please read Recovery One to understand this part, and my other stories to catch up. Also please read and review. UPDATED: Details listed in second chapter. Rated T for swearing
1. Prologue

**Hello again, readers. I will get to the story proper in a moment but first, here's a little taster of what's to come.**

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Prologue

_Outpost 17-B: Valhalla_

_Post-War: Year One_

On a distant planet many light-years from Earth, in a small valley in the middle of a snowy mountain range, a great mystery was brewing. For a while, the valley was silent then two Mongoose-Class ATVs came roaring into the valley. The drivers, two Spartan-IIs, pulled up next to the nearest base and dismounted. The first driver, wearing steel-grey armor with red trim, approached the main entrance and discovered it barricaded by several large crates. He motioned to his teammate, whose grey armor had blue trim, to follow.

These two soldiers were members of Project Freelancer's Recovery Team, codenamed Recovery 6 and Recovery 9. Earlier, they had received news from Command that the two bases at Valhalla were not answering their radio transmissions and were ordered to investigate this strange occurrence. Now Recovery 9 planted some explosive charges on the barricade then he and Recovery 6 stood a safe distance away and set them off, clearing the way in a matter of seconds.

_A memo to the Chairman of the Oversight Sub-committee from the Director of Project Freelancer:_

_Dear Chairman, I write today in response to your committee's request for more information about our program and the suspected incident at Outpost 17-B._

As the two agents stepped inside, they gagged at the smell of death. They went further inside and discovered the bodies of the Red Team, lying completely motionless. Recovery 6 examined each of the bodies and found they were all dead. He then saw that each body was holding a gun and quickly determined that they had been killed in battle by some kind of blade. Recovery 9 meanwhile checked the main computer and discovered that the radio-phone had been tampered with. He also discovered a strange message scrawled on the wall: WE ARE THE META.

_No doubt, by now you have received the video logs transmitted by our Recovery agents dispatched to the region. I am sure you have seen the empty bases, the barricades constructed by the survivors, the cryptic warning left on the wall, the battles that apparently took place between team members that had turned on each other… and of course the ship._

After checking the Blue Base to find a similar scene of carnage, the two agents made their way towards what they assumed was the cause of this whole thing: the wrecked Pelican-Class drop-ship. One of the last transmissions from the Blue Base had said that the ship had come out of nowhere and crashed in the middle of the valley, but the details on what happened next were a bit sketchy. Recovery 9 approached the vehicle to examine the damage while Recovery 6 kept watch on his Mongoose.

_While we cannot say for certain, I share your concern we have a post-project scenario taking place. However, I take exception to your assertion that we were warned this was a possibility._

As Recovery 6 waited, an invisible figure approached from behind and knocked him off the Mongoose. Before the agent could recover, he felt something sharp puncture his chest and he died with a choking gasp. Recovery 9 looked up at the death cries and ran towards his teammate but then he was knocked back by an invisible punch and slammed into the ship's side. Quickly he whipped out his machinegun and fired at the air, but then a rocket-propelled grenade shot out and sent him flying before hitting the ground. Just before he died, Recovery 9 activated his recovery beacon, hoping that others would find them soon…

_I would like to remind the Sub-committee members that anything is possible. Some things are probable. This is what is. And my agency as it always has will continue to deal with what is… until it is no more._

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**And there you have it, a sample of what's in store for this series.**


	2. Chapter 1

**So after that little teaser, we now give you the next part of Red vs. Blue proper.**

**But first, here's the thing. Since this story and the other three came out, I had discovered a website by a chap called Luke McKay, who had drawn images of what the Reds and Blues looked like without their helmets. I realize that I can't post links on this site, so just type in Luke McKay on Google and you'll see for yourself. Anyway, I decided to try and incorporate those images into the stories as of now (In other words, I left my seven previous stories as they are, with only two exceptions in the mini-series), so I will describe the appearances of the guys without their helmets to the best of my abilities. I hope they match Luke's images as closely as possible.**

**Quick reminder that I don't own the rights to Halo or Red vs. Blue; they belong to their respective owners who I'm sure you already know.**

**So let's begin.**

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Chapter 1

In the valley outpost of Valhalla, a Recovery Team was on the move. The soldiers spread out across the valley like swarming ants, checking the Red Base and the Blue Base and the wreck of the Pelican, but all they found were bodies; the bodies of the Red Team and the Blue Team, and of two of their top agents, Recovery 6 and Recovery 9.

The leader of the team, Captain Edward Rivas, was leading his patrol along the valley walls when he heard one of the privates call out to him. "Captain Rivas, we've got something over here!"

Rivas led two of his team up to the entrance of a cave where the private was waiting and they looked inside to find the shaking, terrified figure of a Red Spartan-II super-soldier.

_To the Director of Project Freelancer from the Oversight Sub-committee Chairman_

_Dear Director, I want to thank you in advance for your openness in response to our Sub-committee's request for more information. We were… disappointed that your Recovery force reported a total loss at Outpost 17-B. We had hoped there would be at least _one_ soldier left that could shed some light on the situation. I know that your agency has enjoyed a high degree of freedom with very little scrutiny in the past few years._

The Red soldier was checked over by the team's medic, asked some question and then loaded onto a Hornet-Class transport ship back to the main HQ of the United Nations Space Command. Once there, he was escorted by two soldiers down a series of passageways until they reached the main debriefing room.

_It is not our intention to disrupt such a… _progressive_ military program, but instead to find a way we can work together in a manner that befits all our responsibilities. I am _certain_ that you will agree, and we look forward to making this review process as painless as we possibly can._

They entered the room and the soldier found himself staring at a multitude of display screens. On one screen, the face of the mysterious figure known only as the Counselor scrutinized the soldier. He then noticed the other soldier standing in the shadowy corner of the room, his face lit up occasionally by the cigarette in his mouth.

"Thank you, gentlemen," the Counselor told the escorts. "Would you please excuse us?"

The two guards nodded and stepped out of the room.

The Counselor then turned his attention to the Red soldier. "You are Private Walter Henderson, correct?"

"Y-Yes sir," the soldier stuttered nervously.

"You can dispense with the formalities, Walter," the Counselor replied. "Please feel comfortable to speak as candidly as you wish. Can you tell us what happened at your outpost, Walter?"

"Yes sir- ah, yes," Walter corrected himself. "I had been here about six months. Everything was pretty much like normal and one day, this… ship crashed."

"I see." As the Counselor spoke, a holographic image of the wrecked Pelican appeared before the private. "Is this the ship to which you are referring?"

"Yeah, yeah that's it," Henderson replied.

The Counselor leaned closer to the screen. "Please, tell me what was on the ship, Walter."

"I don't know," Walter admitted. "The Blues got there first. They fought us off while they cleared it out and then took the stuff back to Base. By the time _we_ got a hold of it, it just seemed like a regular old transport. Our engineer said some of the wiring had been messed with but he didn't seem, you know, worried about it or nothing like that."

"I see," the Counselor murmured. "Thank you for that."

Henderson's face then became grim. "But whatever was on that ship must have been what started the whole thing."

The Counselor raised an eyebrow. "Please Walter, define 'thing.'"

"The infection…" Henderson drew in a breath before he continued. "The Blues just stopped fighting us. Some of them set up camp outside their Base and trapped the rest of their team inside. They even blew up their comm. tower for some reason; their own comm. tower… Then they blew up ours. That's why we couldn't radio for help, we couldn't figure out why they would do that. After that… there was nothing. No word from them at all. The CO sent a squad over… all the Blues were dead. They had killed each other."

"Why do you think they did that?"

"I don't know. They had torn the radios out of their helmets and dismantled their computers. The CO said they were trying to build something… but I saw all the stuff, no way! They were trying to _break_ it. And there was another body in there too, not a Blue, somebody else. Actually she looked like him." Walter nodded to the soldier in the corner.

"Don't worry about him for now, Walter," the Counselor reassured. "Please continue."

"We brought the equipment back to Base and brought it back online…" Walter let out a nervous sigh. "And that's when the infection started for _us_."

"The soldiers became… sick?"

"No, they just…" Henderson swallowed his fear. "They were different, off. We would catch guys getting into areas they shouldn't get into. But the weird thing was, a guy would go crazy, act up, and then we would throw him into a cell, and he would be fine. Then _another_ guy would go nuts and disobey orders, like trying to bring the comm. tower back online even though we were told to leave it be. Maybe they knew _it_ was coming."

The soldier looked up at this and even the Counselor looked concerned. "They knew _what_ was coming?"

"At first we thought it was help," Walter replied. "It ransacked Blue Base and searched all the bodies… then it came after us. It seemed focused on the guys that were infected. Eventually it just started killing everything."

"Could you describe it for us, Walter?"

"Not really," Henderson admitted. "It moved fast when we first saw it, and after Blue Base it was… it was different."

"In what way, _different_?"

"It looked… like it wasn't there." The Red bowed his head. "I don't know how to explain it."

"That's alright," the Counselor comforted. "I know this has been difficult for you, Walter. We're going to do everything we can to help you." As he spoke, the two escorts stepped back inside the room. "Please, follow these men to your new quarters. You'll be with us as long as absolutely necessary. You have my words."

Walter nodded and followed the soldiers out of the room. As soon as they were gone, the Counselor turned to the soldier in the corner. "Agent Washington, what do _you_ make of all this?"

At once, the soldier stepped out of the shadows. His face had the look of someone who'd been through some rough patches over the years, with shadowed eyes, scruffy brown hair and a scar running horizontally across his forehead. He was wearing simple army fatigues and a pair of heavy boots. He took another puff from his cigarette before dropping it on the ground and stamping it out. "I think it sounds exactly like what _I_ encountered, except it's stronger now and becoming more so all the time."

"Does that concern you?"

"It doesn't make me excited," Washington scowled.

"You've been through a lot with this program, Agent Washington. The Epsilon AI we assigned you-"

"-Has already been discussed to death," Wash cut in angrily. "I'm over it."

The Counselor nodded then one of the other screens lit up, displaying Washington's medical records. "Now, your physical problems… Because of your last encounter-"

"I'm better now, mentally and physically."

"Our profile of you disagrees with your assessment."

Wash scowled at the screen, resisting the urge to smash it. "Look, the last mission I ran against this thing, I got shot in the back by my own partner."

"Agent South," the Counselor nodded. "We feel some… responsibility for that."

"Yeah, you should," Wash retorted, rubbing the scar on his back from when he had been hit. "If I hadn't had York's healing unit, I'd be dead now. So while this isn't ideal and I don't feel like sticking my neck out for you guys, if it puts me on a path that leads to _her_, you can trust me at least that far."

The Counselor frowned. "So you would say that you have overwhelming feelings of anger, and a need for revenge?"

"More than you know," Wash agreed.

"Excellent," the Counselor beamed. "Now that our agency is under investigation, the Director feels it is important for us to be as open as possible, with each other. If our suspicions are correct, the Meta has made another addition: the Omega AI."

Wash frowned and ran a hand through his spiky hair. "It was Omega and… _Tex_ right?"

"Yes it was."

"The Meta doesn't leave much behind. It's gonna be hard to track."

The Counselor nodded grimly. "We think the best place for you to start would be the Omega's last known location. The soldiers there have the most experience with our program."

"I see," Wash muttered, rubbing his chin in thought. "So I should contact these experts-"

"We do not like the term 'experts'."

"Because no one really knows what our program is doing?"

The Counselor looked shifty. "Let's just say that the term 'expert' is a little too… complimentary in this particular case. Do you still have your old suit of armor?"

"Of course," Wash replied then he looked wary. "Wait, why?"

The Counselor didn't reply…

Sometime later, Washington was dressed in his old armor, steel-grey with a yellow stripe on the helmet and yellow shoulder pads, and was on board a Hornet, making his way to the set coordinates on the computer screen. Eventually he arrived at a distant planet and was soon gazing down at his target destination: a small box canyon in the middle of nowhere. "Oh great…"

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**Ha, thought we were on a different set of characters, weren't you? But no, we're back at that bloody gulch again!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Our next chapter brings us back to some familiar craziness.**

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Chapter 2

_A response, from the Director of Project Freelancer_

_Dear Chairman, while I am obligated to assist in your investigation, I ask that you not waste my time with _irrelevant_ questions. My agency is normally unconcerned with such minute directives as troop reassignment… except, of course, in the _most critical_ of matters._

Once he'd landed in the middle of the canyon known as Blood Gulch, Washington left the Hornet and made his way towards the nearest outpost, the Blue Base. As he reached the building, he noted the rusty Scorpion-Class tank parked nearby and the piles of confetti and beer cans lying everywhere.

"Hello?" he called out. "_Hello?_ Anybody here?"

There was no reply so he switched on his radio. "Recovery 1 calling Command… Come in Command."

"Go ahead, Recovery 1," the radio operator confirmed. "We have you."

"I'm at Outpost 1-A," Wash explained. "It looks deserted."

"Roger that," the operator replied. "See if you can find any evidence that would suggest where they all might have-"

"HEY! A-HOLE! What's with all the noise? People are trying to sleep here!"

Wash looked up in surprise to find a red-haired, freckled girl wearing bright yellow armor standing in the base's entrance. As he stared, the scanner in his helmet gave the details of the female soldier. Name: Kaikaina Grif Nickname: Sister Rank: Private Group: Blue Team Status: Pissed in more ways than one

"Um… scratch that, Command," he muttered in his radio. "It appears I've found someone. Recovery 1 out."

As he turned off the radio, Sister staggered out of the building, clutching her aching head. "Ohhh, man…"

"Hi, I'm Agent Washington," the agent called up. "This is Blue Base, correct?"

"It was," Sister groaned, kicking a beer can towards one of the piles.

Wash frowned. "Was?"

"Everybody's gone, transferred. Something about this base being obsolete now or whatever."

"Right," Wash muttered unsurely. "Where did they go?"

"I don't know! All different places… Nobody told _me_ anything."

"Well, I'm trying to locate some people who have experience with the Freelancer program."

Sister looked up at this. "Freelancer? Is that the band we had here last night?"

"You had a party here?"

"Yeah! I throw raves _every night_, charge five bucks a head. Last night I made ten bucks. Ooah ooah! _Nice_."

"You use the base for raves?" Wash asked, folding his arms. "That doesn't seem like the proper use for official resources."

Sister glared at him. "What are you, like a cop or something?"

"No."

"Because if you are, and I ask you, then you have to tell me. That's totally a law or something."

"I'm not the police, and that's not a real law."

"Well if you're not a cop, then how do you _know_ it's not a real law? Busted!"

Washington sighed and rolled his eyes. "You caught me. Hey, is there anyone else… smart… here that I can talk to?"

"Yeah, right," Sister snorted. "Like I'm gonna tell you. I don't rat people out, COP!"

"Okay, I'm gonna leave now," Wash murmured, backing away from the crazy chick. "Good luck with your empty base and your raging insanity."

"Yeah, whatever!" Sister yelled out. "Good luck with being a cop, COP!"

With a shake of his head, Wash left the Base and made his way towards the other side of the canyon. As he walked, he switched on his radio again. "Come in Command."

"Hello, Washington, we have you," the operator replied. "How was the investigation at Blue Base?"

"Enlightening," Wash muttered sarcastically. "I'm going to try the Red Base now. I'm hoping things there will be a little more-"

Suddenly, a Spartan in bright pink armor popped out of the ground in front of him. "Normal," he finished.

He could see straight away that the soldier was just a cardboard cutout then a gruff voice called out from a hidden speaker. "Halt, in the name of the Red-" There was a cough then the voice continued in a more high-pitched fashion, "I mean, Lightish-Red Army. This Base is operating at full capacity. And if you come in here, you're gonna get into a big uh, uh, _slap fight_!"

Washington sighed as he stepped around the cutout. "I'm gonna have to call you back," he told Command.

"Don't come any further, ooh la la," the recording called out.

Wash made his way further when another soldier cutout popped out from behind a boulder, this one in maroon armor. "This is your last warning," another recording called out in the same gruff voice. "Stay out! I love math!"

"What in the…?" Wash muttered, walking slowly past the rock.

"Your only hope of survival is to kiss my commander's ass," the second recording yelled.

As Washington approached the Base, a third cardboard soldier swiveled round, this one in orange armor and riddled with bullet holes. "And this is another warning," the voice called out. "I know the other warning was supposed to be last, but I never listen to orders 'cause I'm too lazy and stupid… and ugly. Did I mention ugly?"

Wash shook his head as he moved around the cutout and stopped by an old jeep. "This is going to be a waste of time, I can tell already."

As he turned round, a fourth figure popped up, this one wearing scratched standard red armor and holding a shotgun in its hands. "Yeah, freeze intruder!" it yelled in a deep Southern accent. "Stop your intruding right there."

Wash stared at it then looked back at the other figures. "Who made these things?"

"I did," the voice replied.

Wash whirled round to look at the figure and then the scanner gave him another reading. Name: Not given Nickname: Sarge Rank: Staff Sergeant Group Red Team Status: Poor lonely bastard

"Wait, you're _real?_" he gasped.

"Of course I am," Sarge chuckled. "You fell for a classic misdirection. I still got it."

"¿Esta todo bien aquí?" a mechanical voice called out. (Everything ok out here?)

Wash looked up to see a second Spartan in brown armor standing on the roof of the Base. Strangely the scanner didn't give out a reading on this soldier, but a serial number appeared on the screen, which made Wash realize that the soldier was actually a robot.

"We're fine, Lopez," Sarge called up. "I just caught myself a dirty Blue. How many does that make this week?"

Lopez raised a forefinger. "Uno."

"Yahtzee," Sarge cheered. "We're on a hot streak!"

"Uh, I'm not actually a Blue," Wash said. "I'm from Command."

"Command, no kiddin'," Sarge muttered, lowering his shotgun. "I didn't think we were due for inspection."

"You're not," Wash replied. "I was hoping you could tell me about the soldiers transferred out of this outpost."

"You mean Grif and Simmons?" Sarge scowled at the maroon cutout and fired a shot at the orange one. "Those traitors, I told them not to go! The battle here isn't even over yet."

Wash glanced at the canyon, seeing no signs of war damage. "Um, it looks over to me."

"Not while there's a single Blue left in this canyon… which there is: A single Blue. Victory or _death._"

"I see," Wash muttered.

"That's why I refused my relocation orders. Obviously Command wasn't thinkin' clearly."

"So, you're AWOL then."

"I uh… A-what?"

"Don't tell him anything until you talk to a lawyer!" Sister called out from the top of a hill. "You have rights!"

"I'm not a cop!" Wash yelled back.

"Hey, beat it ya little tramp!" Sarge bellowed. "You see why I can't go?"

"Why not just attack her and win then?" Wash asked puzzled. "It would take about ten seconds."

"You're old and I _hate you!_" Sister yelled.

"That's the problem," Sarge sighed. "I can't attack a girl. So we're locked, in an epic stalemate."

"You're kidding me," Wash groaned, slapping a hand to his visor.

"Plus she's cookin' somethin' up and I gotta be ready," Sarge muttered, glaring at Sister. "I hear her runnin' training ops every night! I see them out there with their glow sticks and their tribal drum beats: oom chicka oom chicka oom chicka oom chicka."

"Edaloo," Lopez added.

"Well, this has been really… informative," Wash muttered. "But I need to find someone who had experience with artificial intelligence."

"Alright," Sarge replied. "You want Caboose then. He got infected for a little while, I think."

"Great. Caboose!" Wash cried. "Do you know where he is?"

"Of course," Sarge replied. "We intercepted the Blues' orders. I got it right here." He looked up at his robotic creation. "Lopez!"

"Sí?" Lopez asked.

"Get this guy the Blue Team relocation orders!"

"Sí." Lopez set off into the Base then he came out a few minutes later with a printed sheet of paper.

"Lopez probably converted it into Spanish," Sarge advised, handing the paper over. "So they might be a little hard to understand."

"Yeah," Wash sighed. "They wouldn't be the first thing today."

"Shut up, COP!" Sister yelled.

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**Thus ends Wash's journey into the madness of Blood Gulch.**


	4. Chapter 3

**Our next chapter will bring tragedy to some people you don't really know.**

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Chapter 3

_Dear Director, due to your _busy schedule_, we have begun interviewing members of your staff. I'm certain you will let us know if this bothers you. However, our debriefings keep coming back to a single subject at Outpost 17-B. Can you explain to us what this Meta is and what your plans are to deal with it?_

Once he was back on board the Hornet, Washington fed the sheet into the main computer and it translated the orders back into English. He glanced at the three names on the screen until he found his target: Private Michael J. Caboose - Transferred to Outpost 28-A Rat's Nest. He punched the coordinates into the computer and took off.

Sometime later, he landed outside the entrance to an underground complex and drove one of the ship's two onboard Mongooses down the tunnels towards the Blue Base, hoping that the team there would be completely understanding to give up one of their numbers…

"Oh no, _hell_ no!" The commanding officer of the Base, weaing blue armor with steel-grey trim, made his way down the ramp on the Base's entrance as Wash dismounted the Mongoose. "Excuse me sir, but no goddamn way!"

"You must be Lieutenant Miller," Washington said.

Miller scowled at the agent. "I got Reds coming out of my ass here, boss, and you wanna take away one of my men for a… what did you say this was for?"

"Secret mission, Sir," one of the Blues on the ramp called down.

"Aw, you gotta be…" Miller groaned. "A what!?"

Wash folded his arms crossly. "I think you have bigger issues than troop reassignment, soldier, like getting some of these vehicles back in working order." He waved a hand towards two wrecked jeeps and a burning tank.

"What do you think I'm talking about?" Miller bellowed. "This is _your_ fault! You sent the new guy. He said he was good with vehicles, but all he does is talk to 'em. _Talk to 'em!_ What the hell is that about? And now look at the damn things!"

"I don't need to discuss your problems," Wash snapped. "I have orders, and those orders say I need Private Caboose and I need him now. He has information that could be vital to this-"

"Whoa, wait a second," Miller cut in. "Caboose? You're taking Caboose? And I don't have to pay you or anything like that?"

Wash raised an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"

"_Problem?_" Miller let out a chuckle. "Hell no! It must be Christmas morning and no one told me. You stay right there, I'll get him for you." He turned to the Blues on the ramp. "Private Johannes? Johannes? Johannes, where the hell are you?"

One of the Blues, wearing blue armor with white highlights, let out a long-suffering sigh. "Sir, for the millionth time," he called in a posh accent, "my name is pronounced 'Jones'. Jones!"

"Shut up, Johannes," another Blue retorted.

"Seriously, lots of people have the name," Jones insisted. "It's very common. How am I the first person you've met called Jones?"

"Johannes," Miller called out. "I need you to go down to the brig, untie Caboose and get him up here."

Jones gulped nervously. "Me… alone?"

"Double-time, Johannes!" the lieutenant ordered.

"It's pronounced-" Jones broke off with a sigh as he entered the Base. "Oh, never mind. Christ…"

Wash frowned at what he heard. "You keep him in the brig?"

"We keep him _tied up_ in the brig," Miller corrected. "I'm not takin' any more chances. You'll understand soon enough."

Suddenly, a shot rang out and Jones let out a scream of pain. Then another Blue soldier came running out of the lower level. "Be careful," he called out behind him.

As he approached, Wash looked the soldier over. Unlike the other Blues who were wearing ODST armor, he was dressed in blue Mark V armor and carried his helmet under one arm. His face had the look of someone rather dim, with close-cropped blonde hair and cheery brown eyes. Wash's scanner then told him what he needed to know. Name: Michael J. Caboose Nickname: Asshole, Dipshit, Team-killing Fucktard, etc. Rank: Private Group: Blue Team Status: Extremely dangerous though he doesn't seem to know it.

Caboose stopped next to the lieutenant and gave him a backwards salute. "You wanted to see me, Principal Miller?"

Miller frowned. "Where's the guy I sent to getcha?"

"Oh, him, yeah," Caboose muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Um, he let me out then he somehow shot himself in the back… somehow. But we don't think it was anybody's fault. Everybody agrees it was an accident."

"Jesus," Miller groaned. "Would somebody go and check on him?"

As one Blue ran into the Base, Miller then smiled at Caboose. "This here is Special Agent Washington, from Blue Command. He has something fan-tastic he needs to talk to you about."

"Command? Oh no," Caboose gasped. "They never have good news. Did somebody die? Was it my mom, is she dead? Or my dad; did my dad die again? Oh no…"

"What is this?" Wash muttered. "I don't…"

"You see?" Miller chortled. "He's yours now, no take-backs."

"Is it my brother?" Caboose cried out. "Was my brother killed? That's it, isn't it? My brother's dead!"

"What?" Wash yelled. "No, nothing like that."

"Oh good," Caboose sighed in relief. "Because I don't even have a brother… How sad would it be to not have a brother and to lose a brother all in the same day!"

"No one died!" Wash shouted.

Just then, the Blue soldier returned. "Johannes is dead, Sir."

"Ok, no one besides him," Wash corrected.

"Once again, nobody's fault," Caboose put in before hissing behind his hand, "Pst, I think the new guy did it."

Washington decided to quickly get to the matter at hand. "Private Caboose, you were stationed at Blood Gulch, correct?"

"Yeah, that was fun," Caboose replied.

Wash nodded, grateful to be getting somewhere at last. "And our records indicate that you were infected by an aggressive artificial intelligence program at one point, the Omega AI, is that correct as well?"

"Yeah, that wasn't as much fun," Caboose muttered.

"Ok," Wash said slowly. "Well, I need you to come with me. I'm investigating a critical issue, and you seem to be the only person with the knowledge and experience necessary to help me." He became aware of Miller and the other Blue soldiers staring at him. "And I just realized how ridiculous that sounded once I said it out loud. Nonetheless, I need you to come with me."

"Can I have a word with him first, Sir?" Miller asked.

"Sure I guess," Wash replied.

As the agent went to prep the Mongoose, Miller took Caboose next to the burning tank. "Now, Caboose, I know we didn't always get along-"

"I got tied up!" Caboose cut in.

"Right," Miller sighed. "But all these mistakes… I know it's not your fault. You seem like a good kid, you're just a little… confused."

"Yeah, he is," Caboose admitted.

"But I want to give a piece of advice…" Miller took a breath and placed his hands on Caboose's shoulders. "This guy looks like a tough customer, and you're bound to get into some situations that maybe you're not prepared for."

"Right, like a rodeo."

"Now if that happens, if you find yourself in danger, or if you're in a situation where you think something bad is going to happen, I want you to remember just one thing: never, _ever_ come back here!"

Caboose nodded. "Okay!"

"No, I need to _know_ that you understand. I need to hear you say it."

"Don't ever go backwards."

Miller let out a sigh. "I guess that's about as close as we're gonna get." Then he turned to Wash with a grin. "He's all yours!"

"Great," Wash called back, mounting the Mongoose. "Let's get going."

"Okay." Caboose slipped on his helmet then climbed onto the back seat.

Wash revved the motor and set off down the tunnel again, back to his ship.

"Are we there yet?" Caboose called out. "Are we there yet? _Are we there yet?!_"

"Just… try and be quiet, okay?" Wash retorted with a sigh.

Miller watched them go then he turned to his team with a smile. "Boys, this is a _great_ day. Things are finally changing for us, I can feel it."

"Should we bury Johannes now, sir?" the Blue next to him asked.

Miller chuckled and threw an arm over his private's shoulder. "Fellas, let's just enjoy this moment a little longer. He's not going anywhere."

Down in the tunnels, a Blue soldier, with a wide visored helmet, stood on a walkway and watched Wash and Caboose driving past below him.

"I'm hungry," Caboose called out. "I'm thirsty. I need to go to the bathroom again."

The soldier watched them go then its armor shimmered and changed color, becoming white with brown shoulders. With a hissing growl, it drew out a massive weapon with a blade on the muzzle and turned towards the Blue Base…

* * *

**Uh-oh, our enemy has revealed itself.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Another old friend will make his return for this episode.**

* * *

Chapter 4

_Dear Chairman, rest assured we have the situation _under control_. While the Meta is proving to be an elusive enemy, the Recovery agent is already closing in on it. I expect this incident will reach a conclusion soon, and I will be able to return to my research… hopefully without further interruption._

Once they'd reached the Hornet, Washington asked Caboose if anyone else could help and the Blue told him that there was one who had better experience with Omega. As they flew, he pointed the place out on the ship's map, the distant outpost at High Ground. Soon Wash landed near the base and they walked the rest of the way. But when they arrived, the Recovery agent began to wonder about Caboose's suggestion. The outer wall was derelict and covered in weeds and the gate looked very rusty.

"And you're _sure_ this is where we can find this guy?" Wash asked.

"I think so," Caboose replied. "We all found out our new orders at the same time; he tried to hide his from me so I would not know where he was."

"Really, I can't imagine why," Wash muttered.

"I said it was like a game of hide and seek, and he said that that was right. He was going to hide from me, and the only way he could win was if he _dies_ without ever seeing me again."

Wash rolled his eyes. "And he knows about Freelancer as well?"

"Oh yeah," Caboose nodded. "He knows the most. He knows uh, all about your AI game. He dated Tex!"

Wash looked round at this. "Agent Texas? Um, how could a person-"

Suddenly a shot rang out and a sniper round flew right between them then a voice yelled out, "Fuck!"

"Sniper! Get down!" Wash cried, diving behind a boulder.

Caboose looked up towards a bunker on one side of the wall. "Huh?"

"Okay, that was your _one warning shot!_" the voice yelled out. "The next one's going _right_ between your eyes!"

"Private Caboose, get down!" Wash hissed.

Caboose took a step closer to the wall. "Wait a minute…"

"Alright, I warned you!" the voice shouted. "Sayonara, bi-atch!"

Another shot rang out and Caboose felt a bullet whizz past his ear.

"Oh, come on, what the fuck?!" the voice cried.

"I know that voice!" Caboose gasped. "Church! Church! It's me! Your all time best friend!"

"Caboose?" the voice shouted. "Caboose, is that you?"

"Yes! Church, it's me!" Caboose called up, as sniper bullets flew out and missed him completely. "I have missed you so much! It's been so long! Did you miss me?"

"Fuck, I missed him!" Church snapped.

"I knew you did!"

"GO AWAY!"

Shaking his head in confusion, Wash stepped out of cover and stood next to Caboose, just out of range of the bullets that were still missing the Blue. "This is your friend?"

"Yeah," Caboose nodded.

"And he's shooting at you."

"Well, at me and stuff around me," Caboose replied. "Yeah, it's kind of like our thing. So, he acts like he doesn't like me but he really does... Oh and he might bring up something about me killing him, but that's only the truth- Uh, it's a joke. Oh, you can play along if you want!"

Wash did a double-take. "Wait, that doesn't make any sense. You did what? You killed him?"

"Hey, scram!"

Wash looked up to see the shooter standing on the wall. He had long scruffy black hair, a short beard and piercing blue eyes. He was dressed in cobalt-blue Mark VI armor that looked badly maintained and held a sniper rifle in his hands. Wash also noted that on one wrist was wrapped a silver chain from which hung a small gold ring with a heart-shaped blue ice diamond set into it. He then checked the scanner but no info showed up on Church, which puzzled him. _Must be a malfunction,_ he decided.

"Seriously, get the fuck outta here!" Church yelled.

"Hey Church!" Caboose called out. "This is Agent Washington. He needs to speak to you."

"Agent Wa- You brought a Freelancer here?" Church spluttered. "What's wrong with you?!"

"Open this gate!" Wash demanded.

"Uh, no can do, bud," Church yelled back. "See, this is a secure facility: nobody in, nobody out. Sorry, I guess you'll have to come back, never."

"Oh no," Wash replied with mock disappointment. "Then I guess we'll just have to walk through the huge hole in your secure wall."

Church looked round and saw a section of wall had collapsed, leaving a big hole, and he sighed in irritation. "Fine, I'll open the fucking gate."

As the gate creaked open, Wash led Caboose in and found that the base inside was much worse than the wall outside. The grass had grown up to their waists and half of the buildings had collapsed.

"Okay, sorry the place is so messy," Church said, grabbing his helmet and leaping off the wall. "I would have cleaned up if I'd known you were coming, but hey, no one called ahead."

"How long have you been here?" Wash asked.

"How long? Um…" Church thought for a moment. "What day is today?"

"Today is Tuesday," Wash replied.

"Then I've been here…" Church did a quick calculation. "…Fourteen months."

"What?" Wash cried. "Over a year, by yourself… alone?"

"Yeah," Church muttered. "It's been um… it's been great, I mean just, just it's been great… really great."

Just then Wash's radio switched on. "This is Command calling Recovery 1, come in Recovery 1."

"You are a really odd group of people," Wash muttered. "Hold on…" He turned round and got on the radio. "This is Agent Washington. I found some Blue Team members that have extensive experience with Omega."

Church started at this. "Did he just say Omega?"

"Yeah, and some other words too," Caboose replied.

"Excellent, Agent Washington," the operator replied. "Please stand by for orders…"

As Wash waited, the air on a derelict building shimmered as a hidden figure ran past. Caboose looked up at this and was about to tell Church when he spotted a butterfly fluttering past and immediately forgot about it.

"Now that you have reassembled the Blues, you should head to Outpost 17-B," the operator told Wash. "See what clues your team can gather there based on what they know."

"Roger that," Washington replied.

"They want you to stop the Meta at all costs. This is a Level One directive. Good luck, Wash. Recovery Command out."

"Recovery 1 out." Wash ended the call and turned to the Blues. "Come on, let's move out."

"Move out?" Church cried. "Hey, at what point in this conversation did you think that we were buddies or somethin'? I'm not goin' with you."

"Yes!" Caboose agreed. "You are not in our buddy club!"

"Shut up, Caboose," Church snapped before staring at his teammate's armor. "And what did I tell you about that armor, when we had to pick new suits?"

"You told me to upgrade," Caboose replied.

"That's not an upgrade!" Church pointed at his chest-plate. "_This_ is Mark VI armor…" He then pointed at Caboose's armor. "_That's_ Mark V." Then he indicated his whole armor. "_This_ is an upgrade."

Caboose folded his arms in a huff. "In a Top Ten list, five is better than six."

"We're not a Top Ten list!" Church roared.

"Oh my God," Wash groaned. "How do you ever get anything done, if all you ever do is argue with each other?"

"We're not," Church yelled. "That's part of our charm. Quit fucking it up!"

Wash sighed and placed a hand over his visor. "Look, I know you guys are all wrapped up in your little 'Red vs. Blue' battles-"

"Blue vs. Red battles," Caboose interrupted. "No one says Red vs. Blue; it sounds stupid when you say it backwards."

"But this is important. Actual military operations, not your fake simulation stuff. Something is hunting our top agents, and I need all the help I can get to stop it."

"Stop it?' Church scoffed. "If it's killing Freelancers, I want to start a _fan club_ for it, build it a website."

"And now that the ship from your canyon is crashed, we think it's more powerful than ever. It gains new abilities every time it kills-"

"Wait, wait, wait, whoa," Church interrupted. "You found Tex's ship?"

"We believe so," Wash replied.

"Where?"

Wash smiled and set off out of the base. "Come with me and I'll show you."

"Okay, I'm in." Church put his helmet on then set off after Washington.

"Yes!" Caboose cheered, following them out. "This will be the greatest road trip ever!"

"If you say anything positive, I will fucking kill all three of us right now!" Church snapped.

"Okay," Caboose sighed. "I will be very depressed about _how awesome this will be_."

But just as they disappeared down the path, a white and brown soldier appeared on the wall and gave a sinister growl. The Meta quickly realized that the agent might stand a chance against him with these new soldiers, but he had a plan to stop them. He produced a small device that became a wide screen and listened to the recording of Command that he'd managed to get from Wash's radio. He listened through it once then he began to edit the words around to create a new message before tuning his radio to the Blood Gulch Red Base's frequency and playing the recording.

"This is Red Command calling Red Base. Come in, Red Base."

He waited then a voice responded, "This is Blood Gulch Outpost #1."

"Agent Washington has reassembled the Blues."

"I knew it! I knew he was a Blue!"

"Gather your team. We want you to stop Agent Washington at all costs. This is a Level One Directive. Good luck, Red Base."

"Hey, one sec! Any word on that Soldier Poison I ordered?"

"No. Good luck, Red Base."

"What about the Robot Nuts?"

"No. Good luck, Red Base. Command out."

"Well, you don't have to get so-"

The Meta cut off the radio, rolling his eyes at the Red's strange words. He then made to leave when he spotted movement by the wall. He looked down to see a Spartan in orchid-purple armor with green highlights stepping out of a ruined bunker. He growled as he recognized the figure: It was Agent South Dakota, the girl who had giving him the slip months ago. The voices in his head told him that she still had that AI, Delta with her and he grinned to himself.

Down below, South looked down the path that Wash and the Blues had left then Delta appeared on her shoulder. "I still think this course of action to be dangerous," he muttered warily. "If we are following Agent Washington, logic would dictate that others could be as well."

At that moment, the Meta drew out his brute shot, jumped off the wall and stalked towards the agent…

* * *

**This does not look good…**


	6. Chapter 5

**Now we're back at the beginning for this episode.**

* * *

Chapter 5

_Dear Director, we can all understand that the shift from autonomy to oversight can be a difficult adjustment for anyone, but especially someone of your standing. In that spirit we have attempted to accommodate your _brief _explanations to our serious inquiries. None the less, I feel compelled to inform you that even _our_ trust has its limits._

Once they were on the Hornet, Washington flew the Blues back to Valhalla. Unfortunately, the ship ran low on gas en route so they landed in a small forest and walked the rest of the way. But when they arrived at Valhalla, they found a great obstacle in their way, in the form of the Recovery force already stationed there.

"Sorry, Sir," the Private at the main barrier told Washington. "Those are my orders. No one can approach the crash site. You can't come in, sorry."

"I need to see that ship," Wash demanded. "Check my clearance if you need to."

"I know sir, but it won't matter," the Private replied. "They said I can't let anybody in, anybody."

"I have orders from Command, Private," Wash yelled.

"So do I; these came from the Director himself." The Private glanced over his shoulder then he sighed. "Look sir, I-I'd like to help you, I really would, but this investigation thing… apparently they've started talking to people within the Recovery force. Now everything's getting locked down. You get Command to call me and tell me different, I can let you in. Until then, there's nothing I can do."

He then pointed to the tower nearby. "You can use Red Base if you wanna make some calls. That facility's already been swept."

"Fine, I understand," Wash muttered, turning to go.

He made his way back to where he left Church and Caboose and sighed. "We have a problem."

"I hope it isn't a math problem," Caboose muttered.

Wash nodded at the barrier. "They've got the crash site locked down."

"Oh great," Church groaned. "We couldn't have found that out on the radio? We had to walk here?"

"They said we could use this base if we want," Wash added, leading them onto the outer wall of the Red Base.

"Wow, the empty concrete base?" Church muttered sarcastically. "Is it our birthday?"

"I want cake," Caboose piped up.

"Can't we find somewhere nicer to hang out?" Church complained. "Hey, maybe there's like a cool nightclub that you can't get us into either. That would be awesome."

"You two just stay here," Wash ordered. "I'll go draw off the guards. When I give you the signal, use that grav-lift." He pointed to a glowing blue ramp built into the wall.

"The _what?_" Church asked, staring at the ramp. "How do we use it?"

"Just step into it," Wash replied. "It'll do the rest. Meet me at the ship."

"Okay, what's the signal?" Church asked. When no reply came, he looked up to find that Wash had already left. "God dammit, I hate it when they do that."

"When they do what?" Caboose asked before looking too. "Hey, where's Agent Washington?"

Fifteen tense minutes passed as they watched the activities of the Recovery team by the Blue Base.

"What do you think he'll do for a distraction?" Caboose hissed.

"Who knows," Church replied. "Probably like, you know, make a noise or throw a rock. That's what I would do."

Suddenly there was a loud BOOM and they looked up to see a jeep getting thrown into the air by a massive explosion. Alarms began to sound and the guards at the barrier ran towards the disturbance.

"Or he could do that," Church finished.

"I think he is better at distractions than you are," Caboose commented.

"Yeah," Church sighed.

Then Wash's voice called to them through their radios. "Okay, come on out. But come quietly."

"Okay, let's go," Church cried, running towards the grav-lift.

But Caboose stepped back nervously. "Um, yes, I don't want to. Uh, you see I am scared of the thing that I don't know what it is."

"Oh, don't be a baby. How bad could it be-EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" The moment he stepped into the grav-lift, Church was suddenly flung high into the air, his limbs flailing as he somersaulted over the valley.

Eventually he fell back to the ground, where he skidded off the dirt, bounced over the grass, splashed through the river and then slammed right into the side of a parked jeep where he finally collapsed in a heap. "That was fucking bullshit!"

On the other side of the jeep, a guard turned to his teammate. "Did you just say something?"

"What?" the other guard muttered.

"I said quietly," Wash hissed over the radio. "What part of quiet don't you understand?"

"What part?" Church yelled, staggering to his feet. "How about the part where I got THROWN EIGHTY FEET INTO THE FUCKING AIR _BY THE GODDAMN THROWING THING!?_"

By the time Caboose joined them by going a different way, night had fallen and they waited in the bushes for any sign that they'd being spotted, but everything was quiet.

"They didn't see us," Wash sighed in relief. "Okay, stay out of sight."

He led the way through the bushes towards the wreck of the Pelican. "Do you recognize this ship?"

"Yeah, this looks like it," Church replied.

Cautiously, they made their way onboard the ship and went straight for the flight deck. As they entered, Caboose ran up to the main computer. "Sheila?" he hissed. "Sheila, are you okay?"

"Um, what is he doing?" Wash asked puzzled.

"Oh yeah," Church remembered. "We uh, transferred our tank's training program into the ship so that it could help us repair it."

Wash was amazed. "Did you inform Command that you moved the program to the ship?"

"Yeah, we're not really big on paperwork," Church admitted.

"That's actually a good thing in this case," Wash replied, kneeling down under the computer. "If they don't know it's here, they may not have tried to activate it." He pulled open a panel and fiddled with the loose wires until he heard the computer powering up. "Aha, here we go!"

At once, a mechanical female voice spoke lethargically through the speakers. "Hell-lo and th-thank you fo-for act-activating the… W-Wait, where-re am I?"

"Sheila!" Caboose breathed.

"Program, instruction," Wash ordered. "Run a full diagnostic and load the logs from our last flight."

"Affirmative," Sheila replied. "Excep-exception: the system had taken dam-taken damage. I am functi-I am functioning at minimum capacity-ity-ity…"

"Program, instruction," Wash said. "Override exception and-"

"Do not talk to her like that!" Caboose snapped. "She is not a program!"

"Whoa, what?" Wash cried. "Calm down."

Church then stepped backwards towards the door. "Hey, I'm just gonna stand behind Caboose for a couple of minutes, you know for safety reasons."

"Okay," Wash said disarmingly. "I only want to replay the logs from the crash. So can you please get it-" He saw Church back further away. "I mean _her_, to do that?"

Caboose glared at him for a moment then he turned to the computer. "Sheila, um, would you go ahead and do that thing that he just said to me?"

"Begin-beginning play-playback," Sheila replied.

Suddenly the sound of sirens rang out through the speakers, nearly deafening them. Then two voices called out that Church and Caboose immediately recognized.

"Warning, warning: system failure!" Sheila announced.

"Sheila, damage report now!" Tex cried out.

"Port engine destroyed, rear stabilizer offline, navigation offline; and my system clock does not match interior records."

"Did Gamma get loose?"

"Negative, but I do not know how much longer I can contain him."

"Computer, what about there, in the canyon, can we land?"

"Analyzing data."

"Just tell me, can you get us there?"

"I am unable to calculate-"

"Sheila, give me manual control now!"

"Acknowledged. Manual control, engaged."

Suddenly another siren rang out and there was the rushing roar of air.

"Warning: decompression!" Sheila yelled. "Rear doors open!"

"Where are they going?" Tex cried. "Close the hatch! Wait, what happened to-"

"Warning: altitude critical! Brace for impact! Brace for impact!"

"Hold on! Everybody just hold on to-"

Then the recording cut off with a loud beep and the screen went dead. Caboose hugged the screen with a sob and Church sighed, bowed his head and placed his hand on the ring tied to his wrist.

"Okay, so after that, the ship crashed here," Wash muttered quietly. "And from what a survivor told us, the Blues got here first and offloaded the bodies and equipment. Then they started to get infected."

"Infected?" Caboose looked up with a grimace. "What were they doing with the bodies?"

"Gross, shut up," Church snapped.

"No really, what were they doing with the bodies?" Caboose asked and Church smacked him on the back of his helmet.

"They said their men started acting erratically," Wash continued. "And for some reason, they destroyed all their radios and their own comm. tower."

"Okay," Church nodded. "That was definitely Omega."

"You had a similar experience?"

"Yeah, similar? Exactly the same."

"It all adds up then," Wash muttered. "Omega was the one who inherited that trait. During training, they discovered he could move from suit to suit. For some reason he preferred Agent Texas. They tried to reassign him but he always made his way back to her somehow."

"So where's your AI?" Church asked.

Wash sighed, turned away and stepped out of the cabin. "I don't have one, any more. It's a long story but it's why I was chosen for this job."

As the Blues followed him off the ship, Church snapped his fingers in realization. "Okay, I knew I had heard your name before. You're that guy that went nuts, right?"

"_I_ didn't do anything!" Wash snapped. "My AI… lost control of itself."

"Riight," Church drawled in disbelief. "It just happened to do it while it was inside your head."

"Right," Wash sighed.

"We have a lot in common, Agent Washington," Caboose beamed.

"No we don't," Wash retorted. "And don't ever say that again."

"Where's Tex's body?" Church asked.

"According to the prisoner, it should be in Blue Base," Wash recalled.

"Take me to it," Church demanded. "I want to see it."

"What?" Wash gasped. "I don't think so. That's their main-"

Suddenly a loud beeping siren rang out from Wash's armor and his radio switched on. "Recovery Command calling Recovery 1! Level zero!"

"I have you, Command," Wash responded. "Level zero, go ahead."

"We have a beacon, Wash," the operator replied. "Pulling the data now… Stand by for ID and coordinates."

"I received it here too. Standing by…"

"What was that?" Church cried.

"That was my recovery beacon," Wash explained. "It means an AI somewhere is in jeopardy and I have to find it before… something else does."

"Coordinates locked," the operator spoke. "Transmitting now…"

"Receiving coordinates for recovery target," Wash replied, amazed to see that the beacon was being sent from Church's old base at High Ground. "Do we have an ID?"

"Affirmative, it is from the AI Delta and-"

"Agent South," Wash scowled in a voice suddenly as cold as Sidewinder.

"Roger that, Agent South Dakota," the operator agreed. "Vital reports look bad. Yeah, she's in trouble, Wash."

"Yes," Wash growled, switching off his radio. "Yes, she is."

* * *

**Oooh, South is in trouble and this time, it's personal!**


	7. Chapter 6

**Now we get some action in this chapter!**

* * *

Chapter 6

_Dear Chairman, the Meta is _nothing_ more than an entity seeking to increase its power, in these confusing days after the War. From my perspective, that seems to be a very common occurrence at the moment._

At High Ground, South was fighting a losing battle. As soon as she had emerged from cover, the being that attacked her months appeared and opened fire on her. Quickly she'd switched on her domed energy shield, grateful that she still had it. But now, as the darkened sky faded to dark blue, she knew that it wouldn't last forever and the Meta had not stopped shooting her, getting more excited by the second.

"Delta, report!" she yelled as another RPG hit her shield.

At once, Delta appeared on her shoulder. "Your suit's energy reserves are nearly depleted. The shield will not-"

"How much longer?" she shouted.

"The Meta will breach our barrier within sixty seconds," Delta reported. "I suggest that you prepare your grenades while I divert power from your armor's non-essential systems."

"No."

Delta looked at her with intrigue. "You have a better plan?"

South nodded. "Keep the shield up as long as you can. When it starts to falter, transfer yourself to the storage unit."

"I think I would be more useful in my current state."

"I'll dump my shield generator at the same time. There's no way that _thing_ can resist the both of you."

Delta let out a mechanical gasp. "You are… abandoning me?"

"It's my best chance to get out of this," South replied.

As she pressed some buttons on the control panel on her wrist, Delta glanced at the Meta nervously. "South, protocol violations aside, this seems to be a very short term solution. The Meta will only grow more powerful by integrating me into-"

"Program override," South interrupted. "Acknowledge last directive."

"Acknowledged," Delta replied obediently. "Preparing storage unit…"

"Get ready to eject," South declared, taking out her generator.

"Shield failure in 5… 4…"

"Transfer to storage on my mark."

"2… 1."

"Now!"

But just as the shield switched off and Delta disappeared, a grenade suddenly landed by the Meta and went off, knocking it back.

"New targets encountered," Delta announced.

South turned round to see two Mongoose ATVs approaching up the path, their headlights cutting through the predawn darkness. Two Blue soldiers led the way on the first and on the other was the last person she'd ever expected to see again…

"There they are!" Washington ditched his bike and leapt for cover behind a boulder. "Don't let it get near her!"

Church parked his bike next to some trees then he and Caboose dived behind a wall before firing at the Meta. At once, South leapt off her perch and ran towards the hole in the base's wall.

"Don't let her get away!" Wash yelled.

"_Her?_" Church cried. "Isn't she a Freelancer like you?"

"Yeah, just don't let her leave!" Wash ducked an RPG fired by the Meta and returned fire.

"Okay!" Church then turned to his teammate. "Caboose!"

"Hello?" Caboose responded.

"Hey, see that purple one?" Church said with a smile. "She's on our team. You should help her."

"Okay!" Caboose then got to his feet, raised his gun and fired at South, sending her tumbling to the ground with a cry of pain. Caboose gulped nervously and ducked back behind the wall. "Um… she got in the way while I was trying to help her."

"Okay, we're good!" Church informed Wash.

With a growl, the Meta pressed a button on its left wrist and then disappeared.

"Damn, it's gone invisible," Wash yelled, running over to the Blues' cover. "Keep your eye on your motion trackers and watch your perimeters; look for a shimmer."

"It turned invisible?" Church cried out. "What _is_ this thing?"

"It takes the equipment of other Freelancers," Wash explained, checking his tracker for movement. "It must have picked up cloaking from Tex."

Church gasped. "Wait a second, _any_ equipment?"

"Yes! Why?"

"Shit, Wyoming!" Church then leapt over the wall and ran towards an old weapons crate. "Cover me!"

"What? Wyoming?" Wash cried. "Caboose, cover him. Grab those spike grenades."

"No, don't let Caboose help me!" Church yelled, rummaging through the crate.

Then as he pulled out a rocket launcher, he turned round and spotted the Meta as it reappeared by the bunker. "There it is!" he yelled, ducking aside to avoid an RPG fired at him. "Hey, how about a little help out here?"

"On it," Wash called out. "Caboose, toss that grenade!"

With a nod, Caboose picked up a spike grenade, switched it on and hurled it as hard as he could… straight into the wall in front of them.

Wash stared at the grenade then looked up at Caboose. "That was the worst throw, ever… of all time."

"Not my fault," Caboose muttered. "Someone put a wall in my way."

Wash grabbed Caboose by the arm and pulled him over the wall, seconds before the grenade went off. At the same time, Church fired a rocket straight at the Meta… who simply pressed a button on its chest.

Then suddenly, time around the Meta stood still. It looked up at the rocket just inches away from its face and stepped away. It then ran over to where Wash was still suspended in the air. With a smug hiss, the Meta pulled out its pistol and aimed for Wash's head but then an electric spark shot through its armor and it heard the rocket hit the bunker. With a growl of anger, it realized that time was starting to move again and it beat a hasty retreat.

Just then, Wash and Caboose hit the ground and the Freelancer looked round in alarm. "What?" he gasped. "Where did it go? What happened?"

"Don't you remember?" Caboose asked, dusting off his armor. "You threw a grenade that landed in between us. But don't worry, I saved you."

"It used Agent Wyoming's stupid time thing from the ship!" Church tossed the launcher aside and ran over to the others, glaring at Wash. "What's wrong with you? Why didn't you tell us it could use equipment?"

"Why didn't _you_ tell _me_ that Wyoming was on the ship?" Wash retorted.

"And why didn't someone give me something to yell about?!" Caboose shouted.

Before another argument broke out, South let out a groan of pain as she struggled to stand, clutching the wound on her side. Wash ran over to her and ripped off her helmet. "Delta, are you here?"

"Affirmative, I am undamaged," the AI replied, appearing on South's back. "However, Agent South is seriously wounded. May I suggest moving me to a new host?"

"Roger that. I don't trust her anyway." Wash ignored the glare that South gave him and turned to the Blues. "One of you, take him."

Church backed away nervously. "Um… I don't think that I can-"

"I'll do it!" Caboose volunteered, taking off his helmet. "I like meeting new people."

With a smile, Wash removed the storage unit and plugged it into Caboose's helmet before tossing South's helmet back to her. "Delta, what happened?"

As Caboose put on his helmet, Delta disappeared from South's back and reappeared on the Blue's shoulder. "I agree with the simulation trooper. The Meta has most likely acquired both a temporal distortion unit, and an AI capable of running it, in this case Gamma."

"Well, why didn't it kill us then?"

"I am sorry, but I do not have enough data to formulate an answer." Delta glanced down the road with a shudder. "I think we should simply be happy it is gone."

"That makes sense to me," Church agreed.

"I also agree with the glowing person," Caboose added before whispering, "Everyone else sees the glowing person, right?"

"It is possible the Meta has been injured in some way and is retreating to repair itself," Delta assumed.

"So if we can find it before it does, we may actually stand a chance of beating it," Wash finished.

"Either way, I don't think we should be hanging around here," Church muttered.

"Then let's get moving," Wash replied.

South spat out some blood and pushed her short blonde hair back before pulling herself upright with a wince of pain. "I can-I can't walk on my own."

"Well, I guess you'd better start crawling," Wash retorted. "If you think I'm leaving you here to escape, you've got another thing coming."

"Agent Washington, if I may?" Delta put in. "Before you arrived, South attempted to turn me over to the Meta to save herself."

"Really?" Wash asked with a smirk.

"Much like she wounded _you_ to escape in our previous encounter with it. And as I have learned in our travels, her brother North suffered a similar fate."

"What a team player."

"It is highly probable that she will turn on us again soon, and in her current physical state, she will only hamper our progress."

Wash raised an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting?"

"That we do not allow her to hamper our progress," Delta replied.

"Okay." Wash turned round, drew out his pistol and aimed for South's head.

"Oh, come on, Wash," South scoffed. "What're you gonna do, shoot-" She was cut off mid-sentence when Wash pulled the trigger, only this time he didn't miss.

"Yes," Wash growled. "Good suggestion."

"You're welcome," Delta replied.

Church just stared in dumbfounded horror. "Dude, you guys are some cold motherfuckers."

"I just want everyone to know that I have no problems walking," Caboose muttered nervously. "And I take full responsibility for the grenade incident."

* * *

**I would be very shocked at this if it weren't for the fact that South had shot Washington earlier, so fair's fair.**


	8. Chapter 7

**We're now taking a break from the action to give you some exposition.**

* * *

Chapter 7

_Dear Director, your program was granted the use of a single artificial intelligence unit for implantation experiments. Yet the department records clearly show multiple Agents in the field with implants, during the same timeframes. Surely this must be a logging error, and we anticipate a corrected document soon._

Church glanced between Washington and South for a moment before slowly raising his hands. "Okay, I have a great idea," he said in a slow disarming manner. "Let's all put our guns down and not shoot anyone else that we're trying to help."

"Relax," Washington reassured.

"Exactly," Church muttered. "Let's all relax."

"Agent South had already shot me in the back once before," Wash explained. "And she tried to give up Delta to the enemy. I wasn't going to wait around to see if she decided to do it again."

"Riight," Church drawled. "Okay, sure."

"Stop talking to me like that!" Wash yelled.

"We're not talking to you like anything," Church replied.

"No one is talking to you like this," Caboose agreed as he slowly backed away.

"You don't need to treat me like that," Wash retorted. "I'm not crazy, okay? I'm totally completely sane. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go blow up this dead body." With that, he marched over to the weapons crate, took out an assault rifle, a flamethrower and some plasma grenades and then went back to South's corpse.

Church waited until Wash's back was turned then he looked over to Caboose. "Hey, hey uh, green guy."

"I'm blue," Caboose said.

"_Delta_," Church replied firmly.

"Oh, him," Caboose muttered.

At once, Delta appeared on Caboose's shoulder. "Hello, how may I be of assistance?"

"Hey, yeah," Church muttered, flinching as he heard Wash firing at South with his assault rifle. "Uh, what's the deal with this guy?"

"Destruction of unused armor or equipment is standard recovery procedure," Delta replied.

"Yeah, no," Church said, as he watched Wash step back and fling a plasma grenade at South. "I mean, is he like a whack-job or what?"

Delta frowned at him. "Are you aware of his experience with Epsilon?"

"Epsilon?" Church muttered, turning away as Wash took out the flamethrower and started incinerating South's body. "Oh, you mean his AI?"

"Correct," Delta nodded. "Epsilon was an… unstable intelligence unit that had to be deleted. Its integration with Washington's mind concerned our superiors."

"What do you think?" Church asked, as behind him Wash piled up some explosive crates onto South.

"I believe that Agent Washington's sanity is well within acceptable deviations, for now," Delta assured.

"Wow, what a ringing endorsement," Church murmured, not even looking as Wash fired at the crates and making them explode. "I'm filled with confidence."

"Okay, all done," Wash called out as he rejoined the Blues. "Delta, I called Command. They wanted me to pass along condolences at South's passing."

"Thank you," Delta replied. "I will be sure to archive that sentiment."

"What did you tell them?" Church asked curiously.

"I told them Caboose did it," Wash chuckled. "Apparently they already have a shortcut for reporting his team kills."

"Control F U," Caboose added.

"I would have told them you shot her, but I wanted it to be believable."

"Hey, my aim is fine!" Church retorted.

"And yet the Meta managed to dodge your rocket somehow."

"No, no, not _dodge_," Church argued. "It was there one minute and it was gone the next. That's how I knew it was using Wyoming's power."

"And he was on the ship with Tex?"

"His head was," Caboose replied.

Wash stared at them in shock. "His _head_?"

"His helmet," Church corrected, slapping Caboose on the back of the head. "Not everybody is as twisted as you are, Wash. Tex took it for some reason."

"Maybe that's why the ship took a year to crash," Caboose assumed, in a rare lapse of reason.

Wash shook his head as he led the way back to their Mongooses. "So if the Meta has Wyoming's powers, it's even more powerful than we thought."

"And as scary as someone thought it was to begin with," Caboose muttered nervously. "Back to square one; _scary_ square."

As the sun peeked over the peaks of the mountains, they reached the spot where they'd left their Mongooses, only to find that Wash's was gone.

"Oh great," Wash groaned. "It looks like it took one of our cycles. So what do we do?"

"Why are you asking us?" Church yelled. "I thought you were like the big know-it-all super agent guy?"

"I would go home," Caboose suggested.

"Yeah, dude, retire," Church agreed. "You got any savings like a 401K or something?"

Wash let out a sigh. "Delta, can you shed any light on this?"

"Not without further data," Delta admitted.

"So why does it want these AI things anyway?" Church asked. "I understand the equipment part; at least that lets you do cool stuff. But these AIs are just annoying. All they do is yap and cause trouble."

Delta folded his arms and glared at Church. "I'm going to ignore that."

"AIs help us in battle depending on their functions," Wash explained. "We couldn't run half our equipment without them. And if you get your hands on a smart AI, you can be damn near unstoppable."

"What, smart like Delta here?" Church asked.

"Not exactly," Wash replied. "He's just the logical one of the family. Smart means something entirely different for AIs than it does for people."

"Now let's not go throwing around words like smart for no reason," Caboose muttered.

"Wash is correct," Delta then said. "We are more analogous to what you would call a 'fragment'." **(Air-quote.)**

"Actually I don't care," Church replied. "So I wouldn't call you guys anything."

Delta then gave a mysterious look. "There is _one_ smart AI in the Freelancer program."

"Delta," Wash warned.

"The Alpha is a fully formed-"

"Delta, that's enough!" Wash snapped.

"What's Alpha?" Church asked.

"The Alpha AI," Wash muttered crossly. "It's nothing. It's a myth, a fairytale."

"It is hardly a myth," Delta argued. "Agent Washington, you must have memory of the Alpha-"

"Delta!" Wash snapped. "Command: Offline."

"Complying," Delta replied before he disappeared.

"Ooh, sounds like somebody has a secret," Church smirked.

Wash sighed irritably. "I just get tired of hearing these things talk about their Alpha, and you will too. They get obsessed with the idea of it. It seems like it's all they care about."

"But what is it?" Church asked.

"If it's something really scary, you don't have to tell us," Caboose added.

"The whole purpose of the program was the study of soldiers with experimental AI," Wash explained. "But rumor has it that they could only ever get one. So they had to copy it. The original was Alpha, then Beta and so on."

"They copied them?" Church scoffed. "Yeah, I kinda like that. I guess if one is annoying, then twenty of them are gonna be _awesome_."

"The copies became obsessed with this idea of the Alpha, the original. In debriefings, they would always steer conversations toward the topic of the Alpha; where it was, if they could see it. Some even took… drastic steps."

"Like shooting their partner in the head drastic or-"

"I told you, she shot me in the back first!" Wash snapped.

"And we believe you," Caboose replied. "Even though we don't think shooting a friend in the back occasionally is that big of a deal."

"Some Freelancers tried to get to Alpha on their own," Wash continued. "They broke into the secret storage facility where it was kept. They almost got to it. After that, they shut down the-" Suddenly a loud beeping siren rang out. "My recovery beacon!"

"Oh, great!" Church groaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "We thought the Meta was hurt, but apparently he's just busy killing more of your buddies."

"Pipe down," Wash hissed as he switched on his radio.

"Recovery 1, come in!" he heard the operator call out urgently. "Level Zero, come in!"

"Go ahead, Command," Wash replied.

"Wash, we have a beacon."

"I'm getting it too. Do you have coordinates and an ID?"

The operator was silent for a moment then she whispered through static, "Are you sure about this? I mean, this is how we can be-"

"Command, you're breaking up on me," Wash called. "Please repeat, how _what_ can be-"

"Hold on," the operator muttered. "I'm not talking to you Wash… And, and you're sure? Okay… It's Agent Maine, Wash."

Wash's jaw dropped and hit the bottom of his helmet. "What?"

"Please confirm last transmission, Agent Washington."

"Maine? How can that be?"

"Please confirm, Recovery 1!"

Wash let out a sigh. "Yeah, it's him. It's the Meta."

"WHAT!?" Church screamed.

"Command, give me those coordinates now!" Wash ordered.

"The Meta is a _Freelancer?_" Church yelled. "You have _got_ to be kidding me!"

"Command," Wash called, hearing only static. "Command, come in! Delta, what's happening?"

"Our transmission is being jammed," Delta replied as he appeared.

"Tell me you got the coordinates before we lost it," Wash sighed as he switched off his radio.

"I'm sorry, I did not," Delta admitted sadly. "I did receive bio-com data with the identification though. It appears as though the Meta is experiencing mass power fluctuations."

"Power?" Wash asked puzzled.

"Maybe all that AI and equipment can't run on one suit of armor," Church assumed.

"That is an excellent analysis," Delta agreed with an odd look at Church. "The Meta is most likely dangerously low on power, and will attempt to augment its energy in some way."

"Then we need to get to it fast," Wash yelled, slamming his fist into his hand. "But where?"

Church exchanged a worried look with Caboose then coughed to get Wash's attention. "We uh, we might know where it's going…"

Some distance away, at the power complex known simply as Zanzibar, two Red soldiers were on patrol of the grounds and arguing as they walked.

"I just wanna know why we have wall duty for the third day straight and Tubbs pulls Motorpool every time," one soldier grumbled as they entered a tunnel.

"He doesn't get it _every_ time, DeLario," the other soldier sighed.

"Oh, yes he does, Burke," DeLario snapped. "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, today-"

"Today _is_ Wednesday," Burke retorted.

"Exactly! And where is Tubbs? Motorpool…" DeLario pointed out an opening in the tunnel to where Tubbs was sitting in a jeep, monkeying about with the radio. "Look at him down there. What's he doing? That's right, nothing."

"So what?" Burke muttered. "What are we doing?"

"We're on guard duty!"

"Uh… so is he."

"Yeah," DeLario scoffed. "But _he_ gets to sit still while he does it. We have to _walk_."

Burke rolled his eyes in dismay. "You complain too much."

"I don't complain too much, Burke," DeLario retorted as he looked out the hole. "You don't complain _enough_. I have to complain more just to keep up the average, know what I mean, Burke?"

But Burke didn't reply.

"Burke?" DeLario asked again. "Um, Burke?"

He turned round to see a red figure glowering at him. "Hey, Burke, where did you get that fancy helmet?" His reply was a huge blade thrust right into his chest…

* * *

**Oh no, the Meta strikes again!**


	9. Chapter 8

**We now head back to a familiar building for this episode.**

* * *

Chapter 8

_Dear Chairman, I understand your concern that increased activity would bring increased risk. However, our failsafes are simple but foolproof. A dead or dying Agent's beacon automatically notifies our Recovery team and we will be on the scene immediately to secure all of the Military's property._

With only one bike between them, Church and Caboose had to share the back seat and they directed Washington to the complex where they had originally battled with Omega and where Gamma used to live.

As they pulled up on the beach, Wash looked up at the huge slow-moving fan that gave power to the facility then spotted a Mongoose parked nearby. "Look, there's our cycle. The Meta must be here."

"Yeah," Church agreed as they disembarked, "because no one else in the Military would have a standard issue motorcycle just like that."

"Also the piles of dead bodies might have been a clue," Caboose added, nodding to the dead Blues lying in the sand.

"Just keep your heads down and your eyes open," Wash hissed, leading Church and Caboose over to the outer wall. "I'm going to advance along that wall. You two take Delta and move up along the other side."

"Okay," Church replied.

"Don't use the radio unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Okay."

"And don't make a move until I do."

"Okay!"

"And _no_ screw-ups this time."

"OKAY! Are we gonna sit here on the beach all day or are we gonna go get this thing?"

"We only have one chance at this before it gets back to full power," Wash warned the Blues. "I can't any chances that you guys are gonna botch this."

Delta then appeared on Caboose's shoulder. "Agent Washington, perhaps it would be best if I assisted you in battle rather than helping Caboose."

"No," Wash replied simply.

"Statistically speaking, a Freelancer would be much better trained to use my-"

"I said no!" Wash retorted as he ran up the stairs. "Now get going."

Church, Caboose and Delta then set off down the side-tunnel and made their way into the complex, passing the bodies of Red soldiers as they went.

As they ran, Church turned to the AI at Caboose's side. "Pst, hey Delta!"

"Yes, how may I be of assistance?" Delta asked.

"Hey, can I ask you a couple of questions about this Freelancer program?" Church inquired.

"Certainly," Delta replied politely. "I will answer what I am capable of answering."

Church then realized that Delta was being very considerate when he spoke to him, more so than when he spoke to Wash or to Caboose, but he shook it aside for now. "This Alpha thing; why doesn't Washington want you to tell us about it?"

Delta sighed as he remembered how Wash had reacted. "I believe Agent Washington is uncomfortable discussing our program in any fashion. He was one of the many failures during the implantation process."

"_One_ of the failures?" Church frowned. "How many were there?"

"Several. The Director felt time was limited and escalated the pace of the experiments. I would classify Agent South as another such 'failure.'"

"Yeah, but she didn't even _get_ an AI."

"Correct. Agent South Dakota and her brother North were merely another kind of experiment: what would happen if one Agent received an AI unit and the other did not."

"I guess we found out how well _that_ worked."

"Precisely," Delta concurred.

Church shook his head in dismay. "I still can't believe she killed her own brother."

"She put him in a position to _be_ killed," Delta corrected. "South rarely worked in a direct fashion."

"What a bitch."

"Other experiments like the Dakotas were common towards the end. For instance, Agent Carolina was implanted with _two_ AIs at the same time."

"Two of them? That would drive me nuts."

"Indeed. She only functioned for a short time and not very well while she did. Having three minds at one time proved far too… taxing."

"Well, yeah," Church muttered. "But if Agent Maine has more than one AI, wouldn't he be having problems too, like that Carolina chick?"

"Undoubtedly," Delta agreed grimly. "Agent Maine's power symptoms are only a small indication of what must be happening _inside_ his helmet."

"Oh great, powerful _and_ crazy," Church groaned. "What a winning combo."

By that point, they had entered the main structure and were making their way towards the door to the generator room when Delta suddenly flashed red in alarm. "Warning: enemy target detected."

Church and Caboose peeked round the door and saw the Meta standing by the main computer that once housed Gamma. "I see it," Caboose hissed. "Yep, there it is."

"Yes, thank you for stating the obvious," Church sighed then he glimpsed movement on the other side. "Look, there's Wash."

Caboose and Delta looked up and spotted the Freelancer skulking on the walkway above the Meta. Church waited tensely. "I hope he gives us some kind of-"

"NOW!" Wash yelled, hurling a plasma grenade at the Meta.

"-Signal," Church finished.

"Move up!" Wash drew out his assault rifle and leapt down into the room.

With a hissing growl, the Meta spun round, drew out his brute shot and opened fire. Wash dived aside to avoid the RPG then fired his assault rifle but the Meta dodged each and every bullet with superhuman speed. For many tense seconds, the two Freelancers circled each other, dodging each other's fire and shooting back but only hitting Red corpses. But suddenly Wash's gun clicked empty and the Meta chose this moment to dash forward and punch Wash into the fence behind him. Then it turned and fled from the room.

"Don't just stand there," Wash called to the Blues. "After it!"

Church took out a plasma grenade and flung it at the Meta but it missed and just blew up a crate.

As Wash set off after the Meta, Delta called out, "If I may, I recommend that Caboose and I flank to the right and attempt to surprise-"

"Just do it!" Church whipped out his sniper rifle and followed Wash while Caboose and Delta ran in the opposite direction.

Soon they came onto a balcony and Wash spotted the Meta running towards the fan. "There! Use your rifle!"

"My rifle?" Church cried.

"Shoot it!" Wash yelled

Church raised the rifle, took aim and fired… but the bullet deflected off the fan blade that came down in front of the Meta. "Dammit!"

But then the bullet ricocheted off the wall, off a pillar, off the side of a jeep, off the floor, off another wall, off the pillar again and then through the fan… straight into the Meta's leg, causing him to stumble back with a hiss of pain.

"I got it!" Church cheered. "YES! Did you see that? What a shot! I'm awesome!"

"It only counts if you call it," Wash snapped, setting off down the balcony.

"Oh, bullshit, dude!" Church retorted, running after him.

They ran through the fan and came to a stop by a patch of blood on the beach. "Look there," he hissed to Church. "Come on, quietly."

"Okay," Church nodded.

But then Wash heard some strange upbeat tunes coming down the path. "Hey do you hear something?"

"No," Church muttered. "Wait, yeah."

"What is that, music?"

"Music?" Church asked then he gasped. "Oh no…"

Quickly he grabbed Wash's arm and pulled him aside… just before a Warthog-Class jeep with red stripes on the sides came barreling down the path towards Zanzibar.

"YAHOOHOOO!" the orange Spartan behind the wheel cheered.

"Crap, what are they doing here?" Church scowled.

Behind the machinegun, the maroon Spartan whooped and shouted, "Yeah, suck it Blues!"

"It's _Red_ Army!" the red Spartan in the passenger seat shouted. "There's nothin's gonna stop us now!"

"Oh shit, wall!" the driver screamed, seconds before they slammed into the wall, cutting out the music and spun out into the gully beneath the windmill. "Aw fuck, ditch!"

"Dammit Grif, ya broke the radio!"

"Good!"

Wash recognized the shouts of the red Spartan but they had moved too fast for the scanner to find info on the others. "Who are they?"

"They're the Reds from our canyon," Church replied.

"Double-fuck, windmill blade!"

Church shook his head and turned to the Freelancer. "Look Wash, I don't know how they found us or why they're here but we don't have anything to worry about." But while Church was talking, Wash noticed that the Warthog was being lifted up by the windmill blade. "Seriously, not a thing… These guys are idiots. They can't do anything right."

At that moment, the Spartan in the turret pointed the gun straight at them. "Um, we might wanna take cover," Wash gulped.

Church looked round just as the maroon soldier opened fire. "Aw crap, RUN!"

As they ran towards a nearby building, they could hear the soldier yelling at them, "Yeah, take that! Suck it Blue! Let's go, assholes!"

Just then Wash had a horrible thought. "Wait a minute, where's Caboose? Where's Delta?"

Inside the complex, Caboose had been running along the walkway where Wash had hiding when there was a violent tremor but before he could ask Delta what had just happened, something invisible punched him in the face and he was thrown backwards into the wall and slumped to the ground unconscious.

At once, Delta switched on and tried to wake him up when he heard a sinister growl behind him. The AI whirled round to see the Meta staring right at him then suddenly he was surrounded by six glowing figures of different colors and embodiments all calling out to him:

"_Delta…_" "_You're with us now, Delta…_" "_Welcome back, Delta…_" "_We missed you, Delta. We missed you…_"

Delta stepped back and tried desperately to resist the temptation but the Meta simply stepped around him, pulled off Caboose's helmet, took out the storage unit and plugged it into his armor…

* * *

**Oh, this is so, so bad…**


	10. Chapter 9

**I'm sure this chapter will answer one of the questions raised by the last chapter.**

* * *

Chapter 9

_Dear Director, I feel you're avoiding the question. If this target was already in possession of an AI unit, how was he able to secure an additional unit from Agent South? Would that not verify, as we indicated earlier, that your program now runs experiments with more than one artificial intelligence. If so, where did these additional AIs come from? And more importantly, how did your Agency procure them?_

_Two days earlier…_

At the Red Base in Blood Gulch, Sarge had just finished spray-painting some red stripes on the sides of the Warthog Mk 2 when the radio in his helmet switched on. "This is Command calling Red Base, come in Red Base."

Sarge frowned as he got on the radio. "This is Blood Gulch Outpost #1."

"Agent Washington has reassembled the Blues," the operator said.

"I knew it!" Sarge yelled, slamming his fist on the Warthog's bonnet. "I knew he was a Blue!"

"Gather your team, we want you to stop Agent Washington at all costs," the operator continued. "This is a level one directive. Good luck, Red Base."

"Hey, one sec," Sarge cut in. "Any word on that Soldier Poison I ordered?"

"No, good luck Red Base."

"What about the robot nuts?"

"No, good luck Red Base. Command out."

"Well, you don't have to get so testy," Sarge muttered but he only heard static. "Hello, can you hear me? This thing gets terrible reception, only have one bar. Hello, can you hear me? Stupid 4G network…" He switched off the radio with a sigh then he yelled to the base, "Lopez!"

"Sí," Lopez called, coming out of the base. (Si.)

"That was Red Command," Sarge replied.

"Sí. Yo sé," Lopez nodded. (Si. I know.)

Sarge frowned. "Were you listening to my call?"

"Registro todas llamadas para la calidad," Lopez replied. (I record all our calls for quality assurance.)

"They said those dirty Blues are up to no good!" Sarge scowled.

"Esa llamada sonaba extrana a mí," Lopez muttered. (Actually that call sounded strange to me.)

"I agree," Sarge replied, slamming his fist into his hand. "We have to stop 'em, no matter what the cost!"

"Alguien caricio otra llamada," Lopez added in thought. (Almost like someone took another call and chopped it up.)

"You're right," Sarge yelled. "I shouldn't be here flappin' my gums, I need to shake a tail feather!"

"Sí," Lopez sighed, rolling his mechanical eyes. "Usted se va para su misión falsa…" (Yes. You should go on your fake mission right away…)

"I gotta reassemble the team! And I know I can't get Donut, so that leaves Simmons…" Sarge glanced over to the broken and burnt-up cutout of his least favorite private, "…and Grif."

"Y quienquiera enviado la llamada le matará." (And you will most likely be killed by whoever sent that fake message.)

"Ah, good point!" Sarge beamed. "Maybe I'll get lucky and Grif _was_ killed; not in a glorious manner like battle of course, but doing something menial and humiliatin'! Maybe he drowned in a toilet while cleaning it."

Lopez scowled at him. "Pendejo." (You're an idiot.)

"I know, I know, I'm hoping for too much," Sarge muttered. "Lopez, pack my gear. I gotta get going!"

"Se hace ya." Lopez ran into the base and came out shortly, dragging a heavy suitcase which he loaded into the Warthog's boot under the turret. "Lo embalo diario deseó que usted se fuera." (It's already done. I pack it every single morning in hopes that you would decide to leave.)

"Good ol' Lopez, dependable as always," Sarge chuckled then he cleared his throat and placed a hand on his robot's shoulder. "Now, Lopez…"

"Oh dios, por favor," Lopez groaned. "No quiero tener un momento." (Oh God, please, I don't want to have a moment.)

"I know we've had a lot of good times together…"

"No haga esto." (Don't do this.)

"You've always relied on my guidance and protection."

"El adolescente le derrotó." (You couldn't even win the fight with that teenage girl!)

"But you're going to be on your own now."

"_Bueno_." (Good.)

"I prepared you for the world as best I could."

"_Usted me programó en Español._" (You programmed me in a language that no one here speaks!)

"So take care of yourself," Sarge finished, patting Lopez on the shoulder. "And always remember that I'll be thinking of ya."

Lopez glowered at him. "Voy a ir vedar que la el segundo es tu van, apenas como… y…" (I am going to erase every memory of you the second you are gone, just like I did for [FILE DELETED] and [FILE DELETED].)

"Nope, no words, Lopez," Sarge murmured, taking a few steps back. "I'll see you again… in a better place." He then gave the robot a solemn salute. "Adios, amigo… Adios."

"Vámonos viejo hombre estúpido," Lopez retorted. (Just go, you stupid old man.)

"I'll miss you too, Lopez, every single day!" Sarge sobbed. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry."

"Menos hablando, yéndose." (Less talking, more leaving!)

"Me too, Lopez, me too!" With that, Sarge leapt into the Warthog and started the engine, but he didn't drive off.

"El pedal está a la derecha," Lopez sighed. (The gas pedal is on the right.)

Sarge chuckled and hit the gas and this time, the Warthog drove off into the canyon.

Lopez watched him go then headed back into the Base but after a while, he let out a sigh. "Así, ahora estoy solo." (Great, now I'm lonely.)

Meanwhile, Sarge drove through the tunnel that led out of the canyon and into the plains. "Now to find Grif and Simmons…" He glanced down to look at the coordinates that he'd loaded into the Warthog's navigation screen and set off towards the horizon. "I can only imagine what amazing adventures they must be having right now…"

At that very moment, at the Red Outpost in Rat's Nest, Grif and Simmons were both facing their toughest challenge ever… the firing squad! Stripped of their armor and dressed only in simple fatigues, the two Reds stood with their backs to the wall as five other soldiers, four holding battle rifles, stood some distance away, ready to execute at the word.

"Any last words?" the squad leader called.

"Yeah, you guys suck!" Grif replied.

The leader then turned to face the line. "Ready!"

The soldiers lifted their guns and the leader raised his arm. "Aim!"

As the soldiers took aim, Simmons sighed and shook his head. "Killed by our own men… couldn't see this coming."

Meanwhile at the Blue Outpost, Sarge pulled up by the ramp and noticed the dead Blues lying around. "Hello?" he called out. "Anybody here? Anybody alive?" He waited for a response then he chuckled as he disembarked. "No? Good, Blue sucks."

He quickly checked over the bodies but he didn't recognize any of the faces. "I don't think Simmons and Grif would have switched to Blue Team, but if they did, it might explain why they all died."

At that moment, Simmons and Grif were also about to die but then Simmons had an idea. "Wait, wait!"

"What?" the leader retorted.

"Hey uh, don't we get a last request?" Simmons asked. "You know, anything like that?"

The squad leader lowered his arm slowly. "What do you want?"

Grif glowered at him. "How 'bout for starters you suck my-"

Simmons slapped a hand over his teammate's mouth. "Shouldn't you at least read us our charges?"

"You know what you did," the leader snapped. "You were in charge of our ammunition, and you lost it all."

Grif pushed Simmons' hand away. "Don't you think it's ironic that you're about to shoot us because we don't have enough ammo?" he sniggered. "Also, lost and sold to the other team, two totally different things."

The leader sneered. "Oh you're just delaying."

"Yes that's true," Simmons agreed. "But it's also true that you have to read us a list of charges. It's in the Red Army Handbook, section on firing squads, subsection 2.9c page 94, third paragraph."

Grif shook his head in dismay, his long brown hair whipping his forehead. "You are going to die a nerd. So sad…"

"Do you want to die in the next two seconds?" Simmons hissed out of the corner of his mouth. "Or do you want to die a nerd with me five minutes from now?"

Grif furrowed his brow in thought.

"Well?"

"_I'm thinking!_" Grif hissed then he sighed. "Fine, yeah what he said, section whatever, whatever."

"I think you're bluffing," the leader said, placing his hands at his side. "I never read _that_."

Grif folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Uh, did you _read_ the Red Army Handbook?"

The leader opened his mouth then shut it again and frowned. "I… uh… no."

"That's because nobody has, except for him," Grif nodded towards Simmons. "He's memorized it."

"In three languages," Simmons agreed.

The leader turned to the squad. "Uh, what do you guys think?"

As the squad huddled around for a brief discussion, Grif turned to Simmons. "Is that a real rule?"

"I have no clue," Simmons admitted, tousling his black hair. "But they'll either read the book or read the charges. Either way, we're alive for a few more seconds."

Just then the squad formed up and the leader looked round. "Yeah, we decided that sounds like too much trouble, so we're just going to shoot you and say the Blues did it."

"Oh wait," Simmons groaned, slapping a hand over his forehead. "I didn't think about the 'fuck it, we're lazy' option."

"Meh, I thought about it," Grif muttered with a shrug. "I just didn't wanna explain it. Fuck it."

"Ready weapons!" the squad leader yelled, raising his arm again.

Simmons gulped, a terrified look in his hazel-green eyes. "Grif, this looks like it's it. Listen, there's something I always wanted to tell you."

"I have something I wanna say to you too, buddy," Grif stammered.

"Ready!" The squad raised their weapons.

"You first," Simmons sniffed.

"It was me that stole your identity and ran up all those credit card charges at the pawn shops and peep shows," Grif replied. "Sorry…"

"Aim!" The squad took aim.

"Whew!" Grif sighed. "I feel so much better now that I got that off my chest! So what did you wanna say to me?"

"I seem to have forgotten," Simmons growled. "Hey asshole, can we hurry this up?"

The leader nodded and let his arm drop. "FIRE!"

Simmons and Grif turned away and closed their eyes, ready for the end. But just as the soldiers opened fire, Sarge came roaring between them and the privates, and the Warthog caught every single bullet before screeching to a halt.

"Simmons, Grif, there ya are!" Sarge called out.

Simmons kept his eyes closed tight. "Are we dead?"

Grif cautiously opened one eye and looked around. "Well if we are, then Hell looks just like the army. Big surprise there…"

"I've been looking everywhere for ya!" Sarge bellowed, disembarking from the Warthog.

Simmons' eyes flew open and he stared in amazement. "Sarge?!"

"Yeah, what?" Grif asked.

"What in hell are you two doing?" Sarge yelled.

"We're being executed by our own men, Sir," Simmons replied, running up to his former leader.

"Cut it out," Sarge retorted. "I need you guys to come with me. Command has a secret mission for us."

The squad leader angrily stomped over to Sarge. "Who the hell is this guy?"

"Oh, what's this, insubordination?" Sarge raised his shotgun and slammed the butt into the leader's face, knocking him down. "Come on, you two, let's get a move on! Where's your commanding officer?"

"He's right there," Simmons replied, pointing at Grif.

Sarge looked too. "Where, behind Grif?"

"Sergeant Grif _is_ our CO, Sir."

"Your Sergeant has the same name as Grif? That's a disturbing coincidence."

"No, no listen to me," Simmons insisted. "_Grif_ is our commander. _He_ was promoted to Sergeant when _you_ refused to relocate with us."

"But who's in charge?!"

"Sergeant Grif!"

Sarge frowned in puzzlement. "Okay, see, I can hear you saying words, but it's like they don't match up in a way that makes sense. Did ya have a stroke?"

Simmons picked up Grif's armor and pointed at the stripes on the shoulder pads. "Grif _is a Sergeant_," he explained slowly. "He's the same rank as you now."

"That's who I'm talking about," Sarge cried. "Where is he?"

"HE'S RIGHT THERE!" Simmons yelled, pointing with both hands at Grif.

Sarge looked again and frowned. "So… he's invisible."

Simmons groaned angrily and Grif shook his head. "Dude, I don't think he's physically capable of understanding what you're telling him."

"Does this mean we get a new Sergeant now?" the squad leader asked, sitting up. "Awesome; because this one sucks."

Sarge growled and punched him right in the back of the head, knocking him down again. "Never talk that way about a superior!"

"Did Sarge just call me superior?" Grif gasped. "I heard it, Simmons is a witness!"

"I don't even wanna get involved," Simmons fumed.

"What's going on at this outpost?" Sarge muttered in bafflement. "Insubordination, invisible Sergeants, Simmons has had a stroke!"

"It totally counts!" Grif cried.

"You two just get in the jeep," Sarge called out, climbing back into the driver's seat. "We're getting out of here. I'll explain on the way."

"Shotgun!" Simmons cried out immediately.

But Grif pushed him aside. "I outrank you, get in the back."

"Fuck!" Simmons swore.

Grif climbed in next to Sarge while Simmons picked up his and Grif's armor, loaded them into the boot, and took position behind the machinegun. Sarge then switched on the engine and turned to the recovering squad leader. "Son, tell your Sergeant I'm taking these two with me. He can call Command for verification."

"But you're taking our Sergeant," the leader cried.

"What?" Sarge yelled as the Warthog drove off. "I can't hear you! The engine's too loud!"

The squad leader watched them go then rubbed his head in confusion. "What the hell just happened?"

Just then another soldier ran in. "Hey guys, the Blues are all dead."

The leader let out a sigh. "I'm going to go lie down," he muttered, slumping back on the ground.

* * *

**And that's how the Reds ended up where we are now. PS: If that wasn't the answer to the question you were wondering, then I'm sorry.**


	11. Chapter 10

**Now that we know how the Reds got here, we now return to the battle.**

* * *

Chapter 10

_Dear Chairman, our records in this matter are impeccable and I will refer you to them. It is true that we were granted the use of only one AI program, yet with special permission to conduct our experiments. That is all we were allowed to do, and that is all we have done. Of course, I am sure that you will agree that the core mission of any scientific endeavor is to find creative solutions to… unexpected problems._

At Zanzibar, the Reds drove out of the windmill before leaping out, taking cover behind some large crates and opening fire at their enemies.

In the building, Washington cautiously peeked out so he could scan his shooters. The scanner confirmed that the leader was Sarge from Blood Gulch and it also told him the names of the other two Reds; Sergeant Dexter Grif and Private First Class Dick Simmons. "Where did _these_ guys come from?"

"I have no clue!" Church yelled.

"Do you think they're working with the Meta?"

"_Working_ with them? These guys don't do much working of _any_ kind, so… no."

Wash looked out again and then spotted a blue body lying on the walkway above the Reds. "Look, there's Caboose."

Church peeked round to see. "Is he dead?"

"Hold on…" Wash pressed a button on the side of his helmet. "Let me pull up the bio-comm. and check his pulse rate."

"Uh, you can monitor our vitals?" Church asked.

Wash nodded slowly so as not to interfere with the scanner. "I can check on the whole squad during combat. It keeps me up to date. It doesn't work on you for some reason."

"Yeah, uh," Church chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm sure there's a… perfectly logical explanation for that."

The scanner finished its work and Wash checked the result. "We need to get to him. My HUD says he's alive but hurt."

At this, Church raised his gun, jumped outside, fired a shot and ducked back. "How 'bout now?"

"Stop that!" Wash yelled. "And you missed him."

"Fuck!" Church snapped. "The sun was in my eyes…"

Outside, the Reds were still firing at Church and Wash.

"Simmons, keep firing, don't let up!" Sarge ordered his pet private.

"Yes sir!" Simmons replied loyally.

"And get the grenades out there!" Grif commanded.

"Yes sirs!" Simmons replied, flinging a plasma grenade towards the building.

"Grif, stop confusing everybody," Sarge snapped. "I'm callin' the shots!"

"We're the same rank now," Grif retorted, pointing out the stripes on his shoulders. "I can do whatever I want."

"You're not qualified to lead in battle!"

"_Qualified?_ How hard could it be?" Grif then turned to his teammate. "Simmons, you're doing a terrible job, and you should try to win harder. I mean _try_ harder… to win."

"That was awful," Sarge scowled.

"I learned it by watching you!" Grif sobbed.

Simmons turned round. "Excuse me Sir."

"What?" Sarge and Grif yelled at the same time.

"Oh, never mind," Simmons sighed.

Deep in the complex, the Meta watched the battle on the computer screen with great concern. Even though he'd brought the Reds out to stop Wash and the Blues, he guessed that their constant arguing and the Sergeant's lack of good battle strategy (and obvious hatred of the orange one) could be a factor against them. Anyway, he'd already gained the Delta AI and he was feeling stronger already, so he didn't need their help anymore. So he changed his armor color to red and set off towards the battle. As he left, the screen started flashing a warning: "Generator Malfunction."

Back outside, Wash turned to Church. "We have to end this. Caboose is hurt, he could be losing blood."

"Ah, let him be," Church waved it off. "A little brain damage might actually be good for him."

"Well, what about Delta?" Wash reminded him. "The Meta could have grabbed him, or he _could_ be trying to-"

Suddenly, the lights above them switched off, and outside, the Reds watched a nearby pylon let off sparks and stop humming.

"What was that?" Grif asked.

In the building, Church looked at the lights. "What was that?"

"Oh no, it's the Meta!" Wash cried. "He must be powering up. We can't waste any more time with this nonsense."

He stepped outside, pressed a small button by his helmet filter and then called out in a booming voice, "Red Team, attention, Red Team. Cease fire, cease fire!"

As the Reds stopped shooting, Church stared in amazement. "Hey, how do you do that megaphone thing with your voice?"

"It's a voice amplifier," Wash replied, pointing it out on his helmet. "It's standard issue, all our suits have one."

"They do?" Church cried.

"What do you want?" Sarge yelled out.

"Yeah, what do you want?" Grif added.

"Shut up, Grif!"

"That's 'shut up Grif _Sir_.'"

"We are not your enemy," Wash called out. "My name is Agent Washington. I am part of a special taskforce-"

"Testing, testing," Church interrupted through his amplifier. "Holy shit, it _does_ work! This is badass."

"Stop that!" Wash yelled.

"OW!" Church cried out. "Don't use that thing next to me, you're killing my ears, ya douche."

"Oh-ho no," Sarge yelled. "We're not falling for _that_ again."

"I am a special agent from Command!" Wash explained.

"And this is the voice of God!" Church called out in a deep voice. "Give up your evil ways. Join the Blue Team- OW!" he yelled as Wash punched him in the face. "Hey come on, seriously, you're gonna break it."

"Oh yeah?" Sarge shouted. "Well, if you're Command, then you'd know our secret code word, wouldn't you?"

"What? Oh right, hold on one sec…" Wash brought up the files on the Blood Gulch Reds in his helmet and looked through them for a moment. "The code word is… code word?"

"Aw, dang it," Sarge scowled.

"Sir, what did I tell you about that?" Simmons snapped.

"Alright men, stand down," Sarge ordered, lowering his shotgun.

"_Stand down?_" Grif cried. "We outnumber them three to two. That's like a three with a two, that's 32% advantage. You carry the one."

"I don't wanna know how you came up with that," Simmons muttered. "But you're actually right. What do you care though? I thought you loved giving up in the middle of battle."

"It doesn't mean I wanna die," Grif replied.

"Gentlemen, they know the code word," Sarge sighed. "There's nothin' we can do."

"_Everybody_ knows our code word!" Grif yelled.

"Alright, let's try negotiating," Sarge replied. "Grif, I want you to get out there and see what they want. But first, leave your weapons and armor here so they don't feel threatened. Check that; take your weapon and give it to them."

"No," Grif snapped. "Sarge, you may not think that I'm a good leader, but something about the Blues just doesn't feel right. And I have an uncanny sixth sense. So if you won't help me, I'll just have to get the local Reds to." He glanced around and then spotted a red soldier standing next to a parked jeep. "This guy looks legit. Maybe he can help." With that he turned and marched towards the figure.

"Grif, get back here!" Sarge yelled. "You don't know anything about those soldiers. To them Blue could be Red, or Red could be Blue, or they could be an opposite map."

"Shut up, old man, and watch how a real leader works." Grif then smiled as he approached the red guy. "Hey there, soldier, what's your name?"

The soldier just let out a deep whooshing growl.

"Huh, sounds like somebody has a cold," Grif muttered. "Anyway, listen. I need your help with some…" His voice trailed off as the soldier lifted the jeep next to him like a weightlifter would raise a barbell. "…thing. Wow, that's a cool trick. How did you do-" He stopped again as the soldier turned to face him, still carrying the jeep. "Umm, I uh…"

In the building, Church peeked around then turned to Wash. "Man, it got pretty quiet out there. You don't think they're really working with the Meta, do you?"

Just then, Grif came hurtling past the door, screaming at the top of his voice. "Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, OOOOH GOD!" Seconds later, a jeep went tumbling after him.

Wash observed the scene then shook his head. "No."

* * *

***sigh* It took them that long to figure out?**


	12. Chapter 11

**And now, we return to the battle where things are going very badly for both sides.**

* * *

Chapter 11

_Dear Director, do your 'creative solutions' include the circumvention of the safety protocols that every member of the Military must follow? If they do not, then I fail to see how an enemy has managed to secure not one, but _several_ of your experimental AI. _The protocol is not a guideline_, dear Director, it is doctrine. And no one is above its rule._

"Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, OOOOH GOD!" Grif pelted down the beach faster than he'd ever run before then he dived between two palm trees just before the tumbling jeep could crush him.

At the building, Church peeked out and gasped in alarm. "Oh my God, that guy got fucked up!"

But then Grif poked his head up behind the jeep. "What the hell was that!?"

"Aw, he lived?" Church groaned. "That's bullshit."

"Grif, if I've told you once, I told you a thousand times," Sarge bellowed. "You gotta pay attention in battle! You can't let yourself get distracted by- oh crap, flying jeep."

He quickly leapt aside… just before a second jeep went flying over his head, knocking aside the crates that Simmons was hiding behind. "RUN!"

With that, Sarge and Simmons fled for their lives as the Meta began throwing huge objects at them; crates, jeeps, ATVs. He even flung a massive tank in their direction!

Church watched the scene from the safety of the building. "Well, guess they're definitely not working together."

"Now that he's powered up, he's just killing everything," Washington agreed grimly. "We're next."

Just then, Sarge came hurtling through the door. "Move it or lose it."

"Yeah, come on, skootch, skootch," Simmons added as he followed his leader in.

"Hey, get out of here Reds," Church snapped. "This is our cover."

"What is that thing?" Simmons panted.

"You guys remember Tex?"

"Yeah; the girl who kicked our asses all the time?"

"Well, this thing is like _eight_ of her."

"It must be at full power by now," Wash declared as he ran up the stairs behind them. "Church, you and the Reds keep it busy. I'm going to help Caboose."

"Did he say keep it busy?" Simmons gulped.

"Yeah," Church replied.

"How the hell do we do that?"

Sarge looked out the door. "It looks like Grif is doing a pretty good job already."

Simmons and Church looked out to see a huge pile gathered around Grif's hiding place. The Meta tossed another crate onto the pile and Grif yelled out, "Okay, I get it! Stop throwing things at me, you fucking jackass!"

"Keep up the good work, Grif!" Sarge called out.

Just then, the Meta grabbed a pylon, pulled it right out of the ground and threw it like a javelin at the pile. "OW!" Grif shouted. "Okay, that could have taken out an eye!"

Meanwhile, Wash made his way onto the walkway, ran up to the unconscious Blue and knelt down. "Caboose, are you okay? Caboose!" He gently slapped the Blue's face, but he got no response. "Dammit… Delta, are _you_ here? Delta?" But then he noticed the storage unit lying next to Caboose's helmet and feared the worst.

He took out a glowing green object, placed on Caboose's chest and then switched on the radio. "Church, I have Caboose. He's hurt, but I'm going to keep him alive with a healing unit. How are you doing with the Meta?"

"AAAAIIIYEEEE, we're dying!" Church screamed.

"Oh great…" Wash glanced around the walkway until he spotted a nearby turret with a chain gun mounted and quickly set to work on it.

Down below, Sarge watched helplessly as the Meta grabbed the Warthog Mk II and flung it towards Grif. "Hey come on," the Red leader yelled. "We've still got payments left on that thing. You'd better not scratch the paint job."

The Meta then raised his brute shot with a sinister growl but then Wash leapt off the walkway above and landed behind the rogue Freelancer. "Hi, remember me?" he called before he raised the chain gun and opened fire.

At once, the Meta hissed in pain as the bullets riddled his body. Quickly he pressed a button on his chest and time began to slow around him. Taking advantage, he stepped out of the line of fire, changed his armor back to white and took off across the beach, silently promising himself that the next time he faced Wash, it will definitely be the last…

Wash blinked as he fired and when he looked again, the Meta had disappeared.

"It's gone! Dammit!" he yelled as he tossed the chain gun aside and glared at Sarge and Simmons. "You idiots, we almost had it!"

"Almost had it?" Simmons cried. "We never even _hurt_ it!"

"He means _before_ you got here!" Church snapped as he led the Reds out. "We had it crippled and you guys showed up and fucked everything up!"

"Aw yeah," Sarge scoffed. "You guys looked like you had everything under control before we got here."

"Hey, up yours Red," Church retorted. "I don't see you doing anything heroic."

"It threw our car at us!" Simmons yelled.

"I'm fine by the way, just in case anyone's wondering," Grif muttered as he made his way out from behind the pile of junk.

"Well, the three of you are staying with us now," Wash commanded. "I can't possibly hope to fight the Meta in this state with just Church and…" He gasped and stared at Church, saying at the same time as him, "Caboose!"

Quickly, Wash, Church and the Reds ran up to where Caboose was still lying motionless.

"Wash, what's the verdict?" Church asked in concern.

"I don't know," Wash replied, pulling the spent healing unit off Caboose's chest. "He _seems_ okay. I think he was knocked out, but I just can't get him to come out of it."

"Uhh," Caboose moaned. "Memory… is… key…"

"What's he mumbling?" Wash asked.

"I can't make it out," Church muttered. "But I don't really understand half the stuff he says normally."

"This makes no sense," Wash sighed. "All his vitals check out, but why can't I revive him? Hey do you guys know a medic around here by any chance?"

"NO!" the Reds yelled simultaneously.

"Well, maybe removing Delta did something to him," Church assumed. "Like, put him in a coma or something."

"Yeah," Wash replied. "But there's no way to know that for sure, unless you have a way to see inside his head… Prep him for evac, I'll put a call to Command and get an extract going." With that, he went down a corridor and switched on his radio. "This is Recovery One calling Command…"

Simmons waited until Wash was out of earshot then he hissed to Church, "Hey Blue, why don't you do that thing? You know, the thing you do… the ghost thing."

"Yeah, this guy doesn't know about it," Church replied nervously. "So I don't really wanna let him know and freak him out. Why don't you go keep him occupied, and I'll see what I can do."

Simmons nodded and ran off after Wash. "Hey Agent Washington," he called out. "I think it turns out we do know a medic after all…"

With that done, Church knelt down, stepped out of his body, closed his eyes and leapt into Caboose's mind…

He waited until the rushing feeling faded then he opened his eyes and found himself back in the familiar metal labyrinth that is the inside of Caboose's mind. "Uh, I hate coming here…"

"Hello," a voice called out.

Church whirled round to see a Spartan in steel-gray armor with yellow highlights walking down a broken walkway. "Agent Washington?"

"Yes, I am Agent Washing Tub," the Spartan replied with a nod. "How are you doing, Caboose's best friend?"

"Oh right," Church groaned as he suddenly remembered that this was just Caboose's mental image of Wash. "Hi, Agent Washington."

"What is this place?" Wash asked, glancing around the chamber.

"This is Caboose's mind," Church explained. "So everybody here is pretty much as Caboose sees the world. That means everyone's gonna be either really happy or make no sense whatsoever."

"I see," Wash muttered. "That's valuable information. I will take that information, and I will keep it in a special folder marked secret. Everyone knows, that is the best security there is. Don't tell anyone I told you that."

"Hmmm," Church pondered aloud. "Actually you act a lot like you do on the outside."

"I would like to think that's because I present myself in a very clear and consistent manner," Wash replied. "Now if you will excuse me, I need to scare some people who are just trying to help me, and then go fight monsters and robots from the future. Freelancer power, activate!" And he ran off towards the pillars.

"Yeah, okay, good luck with that," Church called out, rolling his eyes at Caboose's crazy imagination.

"Hello, Church," a mechanical voice spoke up.

Church spun round and saw a glowing green Spartan standing next to a nearby pillar. "Delta?"

"Yes," Caboose's smart double called out as he approached. "This is my new friend Delta. I believe he has some information for you."

"Awesome!" Church cheered.

"Unfortunately I have been taken by the Meta," Delta said regrettably. "This is merely a memory I left in Caboose's mind to help you along your way."

"Well then, how are you talking to me?"

"I am not. I merely used logic to determine what questions you would ask and in what order. Then I left the appropriate responses."

Church raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Yes, really," Delta replied. "I left this memory in case you found it. Please tell Agent Washington… that memory is the key."

"Memory is the key," Caboose echoed as if in a trance.

"Memory is the key?" Church asked. "What does that mean?"

"Wash will know," Delta replied mysteriously.

"Okay seriously, does it have to be a riddle?" Church snapped. "Can't you just tell me what you want me to do? How hard would that be?" He glared at Caboose's double. "I bet this is your fault somehow."

"I just work here," Caboose muttered with a shrug.

"Well if you're in the Meta, then why don't you just help us from the inside?"

"Church, I have to be objective," Delta replied sadly. "The next time you see me, I may not want you to help me."

With that, Caboose pointed his gun at Church and fired… and suddenly Church was back in the real world once again.

"Delta, Delta, wait!" Church yelled at Caboose. "'Memory is the key'? What about the Meta? What about-"

"Uh dude?" Grif cut in.

Church looked around… to see that Wash was staring right at him, his eyes wide like saucers and his mouth hanging open.

"Yeah, turns out I'm not so good at distracting," Simmons admitted sheepishly.

"Wash, don't panic," Church reassured as he got to his feet. "I can explain."

"Yeah," Grif said. "See, when Simmons was boring you with random conversation about nerd stuff, he was really just trying to distract you from what the Blue guy here was doing."

"He means explain the fact that he's a ghost," Sarge yelled.

"Oh right," Grif muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah he can explain that part too."

"Idiot," Sarge hissed.

* * *

**He most certainly is, Sarge, he most certainly is.**


	13. Chapter 12

**This chapter may give old readers a sense of nostalgia and new readers a reason to read my earlier stories.**

* * *

Chapter 12

_Dear Chairman, I too, hold the protocol in the highest regard. The doctrine kept us _all_ safe during the Great War. If you are insinuating Sir, that we violated it in any way or that we were derelict in our duty to the Military, well then I suggest you be direct and tell me exactly how we did so._

Getting over the shock of seeing the ghostly Church, Washington glared angrily at him. "What is going on?"

"Wash, stay calm," Church said slowly. "We can explain."

"I don't want explanations!" Wash snapped. "I want the truth, now! When were you gonna tell me about this?"

"Okay, maybe I should start at the beginning," Church sighed. "You see, Caboose here killed me by accident once; well actually, more than once."

"Not my fault," Caboose moaned. "Tucker did it…"

"Shut up," Church muttered, kicking his foot through his teammate's side.

"He killed you," Wash repeated. "As in… dead?"

"Then we reached an agreement," Sarge put in. "I built Blue over here a new body-"

"Agreement?" Church scoffed. "More like we kicked your ass and you didn't have much of a choice of what you wanted to do."

"Who kicked what now?" Sarge yelled.

"What are you, an idiot?" Simmons added.

"You wanna talk that back," Sarge warned.

"You guys totally gave up!" Church gloated.

"Bullshit!" Grif snapped.

"That was the time Tex kicked your asses all over-"

"Stop!" Wash yelled. "Focus… How did you build him a body?"

"With a robot kit, of course," Sarge replied. "I'd already used ours to build our helper, Lopez."

"And a mighty fine job you did too, Sir," Simmons added loyally.

"Yeah," Grif muttered sarcastically. "It's always great to have a helper no one can understand."

"Blue Team hadn't used theirs for some reason," Sarge continued. "And they even had an extra. We used that for your buddy uh, whatsername."

"And that didn't strike anyone as odd?" Wash asked. "That you would have a kit to build a robot that looks like a soldier?"

"That's just standard issue equipment, right?" Simmons replied unsurely.

"_What?_ No," Wash cried. "Have you ever run into anyone else who has one?"

"We don't really get out that often," Simmons admitted.

"Okay, smart guy," Sarge scowled. "If they're so rare, then why did Command send us upgraded ones when we were told to ship out to Rat's Nest?"

"You guys went to Rat's Next too?" Church gasped.

"I used some of the spare parts to spruce up Lopez."

"Spare parts?" Simmons cried. "Did you fix his voice thing?"

"You know," Sarge muttered. "I didn't even think of that until just this second, kind of obvious in hindsight. Probably best not to mention it to him if you see him."

"Meh, he wouldn't understand anyway," Simmons shrugged.

"Your team sucks," Church retorted.

"At least our robot isn't the leader of our team, Bluebot!" Sarge countered.

"Hey, that's not very nice!" Caboose yelled, sitting bolt upright. "He means us, right?"

"Yes and shut up!" Church shouted.

"STOP IT!" Wash screamed. "I can't stand this. No more bickering. You have to be the most immature soldiers I've ever met!"

"Your face is immature," Grif retorted.

"Shut up," Wash snapped. "From now on, everyone just keep quiet, and don't talk unless I ask you a question. That's an order. I need to figure this out."

"Hold on," Sarge shouted. "You can't order us around!"

"Yes I can."

"What's your rank?"

"My rank?" Wash spluttered. "You still don't get it, do you? You think you're real soldiers? You're not. You guys are nothing."

"Whatever, your face is… nothing," Grif trailed off.

"We used your outposts as testing grounds, _practice_," Wash explained. "You never noticed that you never had anything to do unless a Freelancer showed up or you made a call to Command?"

Sarge glared at him. "You're makin' that up."

"Am I?" Wash replied smugly. "Think about it. Name one thing that ever happened to you that wasn't directly preceded by Command calling you or sending someone to your base. One thing…"

Church and Caboose glanced at each other worryingly, Simmons opened his mouth to speak but then shut it again, Grif scratched the top of his helmet in thought and Sarge just grimaced.

"Anything?" Wash prompted. "No? I thought so. You three, go assess the vehicles and see if you can find some trail of the Meta while you're at it."

"Ooh, finally a take-charge leader," Simmons cried, running down the walkway. "I like it!"

"Shut up!" Grif and Sarge yelled as they followed him.

Wash then turned to the Blues and handed Caboose his helmet. "Church, get back in your armor. You're just going to draw attention to yourself like that."

"Fine," Church sighed. "But first-"

"No, no first, get in your armor."

"I really think I should tell you what it is-"

"Shush."

"I have a message from Delta!"

Wash gasped. "Delta? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh come on, seriously?"

"How did you get in contact with him?"

"He left a message for me in Caboose's head; actually for me to give to you. I guess he figured out I would get in there and find it."

"How would he know that?" Wash pondered aloud. "Did he know what you are?"

"Well _I_ didn't tell him," Church replied as he repossessed his body. "But he seemed pretty smart. Maybe he just put two and two together."

"Four," Caboose piped up.

"That wasn't a test."

"Yes it was I won A-plus."

"What was the message?" Wash asked.

"He said 'Memory is the key'," Church recalled.

"Memory is the key," Wash repeated. "Did he say anything else?"

"Nothing important," Church said.

"Memory is the key?" Caboose asked puzzled. "What does _that_ mean?"

"He said Wash would know."

Wash turned the message over in his mind. "Memory is the key…"

"Yeah, I know," Church replied. "It didn't make any sense to me either. It just sounded like some stupid riddle or something."

Wash suddenly looked up, a very serious look on his face. "Gather your gear. We're leaving… Now!"

They watched him run off down the walkway then Caboose put his helmet back on and turned to Church. "I think he's angry because of what you said to him."

"Yeah," Church chuckled as they ran after him. "If I knew it was gonna make him leave, I would've said it sooner."

They caught up with Wash as he joined the Reds next to the badly damaged Warthog Mk II and ruined jeeps.

"What's the status of the vehicles?" Wash demanded. "Report."

"You could have asked nicely," Grif scowled.

"You're right, I could. Report!"

"They're all busted," Sarge replied. "We could probably fix one by takin' parts from all the others. That's one of my specialties. It's gonna take a while though."

"How long?"

"Couple o' days."

"No time. We need to start moving ASAP. And we need six seats. You're gonna have to get me two jeeps in a few hours."

"No can do. It's not gonna happen."

Wash let out a sigh. "Then we'll have to get them somewhere else. And I know exactly where we can find them."

"Why, where are we going?" Church asked.

"Delta was right. Memory _is_ the key."

"But what does it mean?"

Wash turned to Church, a grim look in his face. "It means that only one thing remembers everything about these AI and where they came from. It will know how to stop them. We need to unlock the Alpha."

"The Alpha?" Church gasped.

Wash nodded slowly. "And that means we're going home. We're going… to Command!"

* * *

**Oh boy, now we're getting somewhere!**


	14. Chapter 13

**We're now heading back to where it all started for this episode.**

**Also, for the next few episodes, I have installed a special shock-o-meter that I just thought of. It will measure on a scale of 1 to 10 how shocking the end of an episode was; 1 being boring and 10 being extremely shocking. I'm starting here to give it a bit of a benchmark.**

* * *

Chapter 13

_Dear Director, our laws are not designed to outline every possible infraction that takes place! However the spirit of the law is clear. Blatant disregard for the safety and well-being of our citizens, in any form, will always be a punishable offense, regardless of how well or by whom that offense has been justified._

With their ultimate goal clear, Washington took the Reds and Blues back to Valhalla so they could borrow two of their vehicles for their trip to Command. Once there, the Reds insisted that they could get the transport without difficulty, but the moment they drove off in the first jeep, they were immediately spotted by the Recovery forces who quickly gave chase…

Simmons clung on tightly to the machinegun turret and watched the Warthog driving towards them. "Here they come!"

"Simmons, what are you waiting for?" Sarge bellowed. "Shoot them!"

"I can't," Simmons called back. "The stupid gun is jammed!"

"Step on it, Grif!" Sarge ordered.

"Yeah, no shit!" Grif snapped, slamming his foot on the accelerator.

Behind them, the soldier on the turret opened fire while his partner picked up the speed.

"Whose idea was it to steal a jeep from these guys anyway?" Sarge cried.

On a cliff by the Red Base, Washington watched the chase through the scope of Church's sniper rifle and let out a sigh. "I _knew_ this plan wouldn't work."

"We all knew this plan wouldn't work," Church scowled. "None of our plans ever work."

"That's why we carry guns," Caboose added.

"'We can get a car, no problem,'" Wash muttered, mocking Sarge's voice. "'We're better with vehicles than the Blues, let us handle this.' Why did I even listen to them?"

"I told you not to," Church replied.

"Yeah well, I already stopped listening to _you_ three bases ago," Wash retorted.

Caboose glared at the Freelancer. "Well, that's not very-"

"And I _never_ started listening to _you_!" Wash cut in.

Meanwhile, the pursuing Warthog was catching up to the Reds until it drew up alongside.

"Force them into the wall!" Sarge yelled.

"On it!" Grif swung the wheel round and smashed the other jeep towards the Red Base until it zoomed into the doorway of the lower level and disappeared.

"Where'd they go?" Grif cried.

"Did ya lose them?" Sarge gasped.

"Looks like it," Grif chuckled, pulling the car to a stop on the other side.

"What in Sam Hell?" Sarge spluttered. "I don't believe it."

"Well Sarge, I guess you owe me an apology," Grif beamed. "Turns out I'm not such a bad driver after-" He trailed off as the enemy jeep drove out the doorway right in front of them. "…all."

The driver of the other jeep revved the engine and the man behind the turret cocked the gun and pointed it right at the Reds. "Oh come on, what the fuck?" Grif cried.

On the cliff, Caboose watched through the sniper scope as the Reds spun their jeep round and sped away from the enemy vehicle. "Oh man," he gulped. "That jeep has a really big gun."

"_Don't_ get any ideas," Church warned, snatching his rifle back.

"Well, I guess I'd better get down there and save them," Wash sighed. "I'm really starting to hate this part of the job."

"Well, at least you're getting good practice at it," Caboose commended.

"Don't patronize me," Wash scowled, setting off into the valley.

"You know," Church called out. "If we let one or two of 'em die, we could probably all squeeze into one car. Just saying, you should think about it."

"Oh, and if enough of us die, we can fit on a motorcycle!" Caboose added.

Church watched as Wash ran towards the Reds then smiled and turned back to his teammate. "Alright good, he's gone. Caboose, you stay here, I'll be right back."

Caboose gasped in dismay. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah," Church replied, stepping out of his body. "For some reason he doesn't want me to see Tex's body. I'm gonna go try to find her."

"Um, don't leave me here with your body," Caboose stammered. "It stares at me and I don't like it."

"You'll be fine," Church reassured, running off towards the Blue Base.

Caboose sighed and looked out towards the valley in silence. Then Church's body started to make a loud humming noise. "Stop it!"

Back in the valley, Simmons fiddled with the machinegun for a few moments then some shots rang out from the gun. "Got it!"

"Great, you unjammed the gun?" Grif yelled. "How 'bout you shoot 'em?"

"Grif, just get us out of this!" Sarge bellowed, flinching as the enemy opened fire at them.

As they drove past a precipice, Grif suddenly turned and drove towards the cliff edge. "Hold on, I wanna try something," he told the others, gunning the engine. "I think I can make this jump!"

"Are you insane?" Sarge yelled.

"Yeah, fuck this, brakes!" Grif slammed his foot on the pedal and the Warthog swerved round and just stopped on the edge of the cliff. "Uh, we're really high."

Behind them, the other jeep couldn't stop in time and went flying over the cliff. Simmons chose this moment to open fire at the fuel tank in its underside, blowing up the jeep and sending the drivers plunging down to the river below. "Yeah, got him!"

At that moment, Wash came running up and glanced down to see the burning wreckage crash down on the bodies of the soldiers. "You idiots!" he yelled. "We needed that jeep!"

"Uh yeah, and _we_ needed not to die?" Grif replied. "What's your point?"

"There's still six of us," Wash reminded them. "Where are we gonna get another vehicle?"

Right on cue, there was a loud whooshing noise and the Reds stared wordlessly at the Hornet-Class gunship rising up from behind the cliff. Seeing the looks on their faces, Wash turned round and stared at the ship. "Oh."

"Hey dude?" Grif scowled. "In the future, don't ask for shit!"

At the Blue Base, the two guards outside the main doorway watched the scene with growing intrigue, none of them aware of Church slinking up behind them.

"Looks like the Hornet's gonna get them," the first guard chuckled.

"Yeah," the second one sighed. "They blew up our jeep though. That kinda sucks."

"And they killed two of our friends, right?"

"Oh yeah, that too."

"Still I think-" But the guard got no further as Church leapt into his body and took him over. "Heagurgurk!"

The second guard spun round in alarm. "You okay?"

By then, Church had taken over and looked round. "Me?" he asked in a mix of his and the guard's voice.

"Yeah you, what was that noise?"

"I didn't hear any noise."

"It sounded like-"

"I sneezed."

The second guard raised an eyebrow. "You sneezed."

"Yeah," Church replied, backing slowly towards the doorway. "So anyway, I'm gonna go in the base now, gonna do some patrolling in there. You know how it is, standard ops stuff. Okay, see ya."

"What are you talking about? The CO said to stay out here and make sure no one gets _in_ the base."

"Oh it's okay. I uh, I spoke to the Sergeant. He gave me special orders."

"Okay, yeah," the second guard replied then he frowned "Wait, you mean the Captain?"

"Huh? Yeah right, that guy, whatever," Church called back.

In the valley, Grif reversed away from the cliff and zoomed away.

"RUN!" Simmons yelled as the gunship gave chase.

Wash ducked behind a boulder and peeked out to watch the chase. Then he looked towards the Blue Base and spotted one of the guards running inside. "Dammit…" He then looked to where the Blues were waiting and switched on his radio. "Caboose, what is Church doing?"

"Oh, uh, doing?" Caboose glanced nervously at Church's body before replying, "Uh, why, nothing, Agent Washington. He's just standing next to me watching you get killed by the giant spaceship."

"Oh really," Wash replied suspiciously. "Can you put him on then?"

"Oh I don't think so," Caboose lied as the gunship's missiles hit the cliff he was standing on. "Um, we're playing a game uh, called 'who can hold still the longest.' Um, it's a fun game we-"

Suddenly the cliff shuddered again and Caboose heard a loud clang behind him. He looked round to see that Church's body had fallen over backwards. He gulped in alarm and got back on the radio. "I'm going to have to call you back."

* * *

***sigh* Caboose is a terrible liar.**

**SHOCK-O-METER READING: 3**


	15. Chapter 14

**And now we return to the chase scene already in progress.**

* * *

Chapter 14

_Dear Chairman, Sir while I appreciate your concern, allow me to correct you in one area. I value all our subjects' well-being, but I revere above all less our ability to continue as a species; our ability to survive. And no committee, no _bureaucrat_, will _ever_ convince me otherwise._

In the valley, the Reds were still trying desperately to get away from the Hornet but the ship still stuck to their tail like a hawk pursuing its prey.

"Hey, I have a question," Grif called to his teammates. "Why do we agree to come along on these things if we're just gonna be the decoy the whole time?"

"Looks like you have it under control," Washington called out, running towards the Blue Base. "I'll be right back."

Inside the Base, Church, still as the guard, made his way through the corridors, searching for any sign of his ex-girlfriend.

"Tex?" he hissed, peeking round a doorway to examine the room beyond. "Tex, are you here? Tex, come on."

He set off down the halls again. "Tex!" he called out. "Allison?"

Just then he heard a gun being cocked behind him and a voice cry out, "Alright, freeze!"

Church whirled round to find the second guard standing in the corridor, pointing a pistol right at him. "Oh, what?"

"They told us to be on the lookout for someone acting odd," the guard replied. "And _you're_ acting odd, so hands up."

Church gulped as he raised his hands above his head. "Hey buddy, come on. You don't need to be like all-"

Suddenly the guard felt a blow to the back of his head and slumped to the floor unconscious.

"…knocked out," Church finished with a sigh. "Thanks Wash."

Washington stepped over the guard and stared at him. "Church, is that you in there?"

"Uh yeah, one sec…" Church then stepped out of the first guard's body and appeared next to him. "There."

"What happened?" the first guard slurred. "I feel kinda…" Then he fainted to the floor next to his teammate.

"What do you think you're doing in here?" Wash snapped.

"I had to see Tex's body, I uh…" Church sighed and bowed his head. "She's like me, Wash."

"I know all about her, Church," Wash replied. "Come on, you're not gonna find anything in here."

"But where is she?" Church asked as they made their way back down the corridor. "She should be here, right? I mean, shouldn't she?"

"We've all lost people, Church," Wash sighed. "What's important is that you remember her. And what's even more important is that you don't slow me down while I'm in the middle of a mission!"

As they neared the entrance, a loud explosion rang out. "What now!?" Wash cried.

He and Church ran outside and spotted the Reds as they drove back and forth in the valley.

"What is going on out here?" Wash yelled.

"What does it look like?" Sarge called out.

"We're running from the stupid plane!" Grif added, swerving the jeep to avoid another missile.

"Well, we need to leave," Wash shouted. "We have a Warthog at Blue Base. We'll take that and you follow me."

"What about the ship?" Sarge yelled.

"Well, take it down!"

"Not that simple!"

"If it's so easy, why don't you do it?" Grif agreed.

"Fine," Wash sighed.

With that, he ran up and fired at the Hornet, attracting the attention of the pilot. He then ran out across the valley, dodging the missiles fired at him and firing back. He dashed along the river, snatched up a battle rifle and ran towards the precipice.

Church ran up to the Reds to watch the gunfight. "Should we help him?"

"We could," Grif replied. "Or we could take bets on how long he's gonna live. I got ten bucks that says it's less than a minute."

"I'll take that action," Church said.

Meanwhile, Wash ran onto the precipice as the Hornet opened fire with the machinegun. He looked towards the Red Base and spotted some fusion coil barrels next to the grav-lift. Wasting no time, he raised his gun and fired at them. A glancing shot knocked one of the barrels onto the grav-lift and it was sent flying towards the ship. Wash timed his moment then fired at the barrel. The explosion took out one of the engines and the Hornet spiraled out of the sky before crashing into the cliff-face and exploding in a great blaze. It was over in just thirty seconds.

Wash made his way over to Church and the Reds, dusting his hands off. "Okay, _now_ can we go?"

They met up with Caboose so that Church could repossess his body then they made their way back to the Red Base to discuss the next phase of their invasion plan.

"Alright, I need suggestions," Wash told them, pacing around the parked Warthogs. "The Freelancer Command Facility is an underground complex of secure bunkers and fortified chambers. Let's put our heads together and see if we can figure out a way to get in there."

"I have an idea," Grif said.

"And 'let's not do it' is not an acceptable plan," Wash cut in.

"Oh," Grif muttered. "Well, you probably should have said _that_ before you asked for suggestions."

"Next idea."

Simmons raised a hand. "Why don't we _call_ Command and ask them what the proper procedure is for invading their headquarters?"

"Next."

Sarge stepped forward. "How about we build a makeshift nuclear device and blow the entire place to kingdom-"

"No," Wash interrupted. "We have to get _in_ there."

"Why?" Simmons asked puzzled.

"Because we need to unlock the Alpha."

"The what?"

"It's the main AI from Project Freelancer," Church explained. "You know all the AIs that we've been dealing with over the years? It's where they were all copied from originally."

"You can't copy an AI," Simmons snorted.

"The _main one?_ Fuck that!" Grif yelled. "Those things have caused all our problems. Why would we go looking for the main boss one?"

"That's a good question," Church agreed. "Agent Washington, do you wanna answer that one?"

"You'll understand everything soon enough," Wash replied mysteriously.

Simmons just shook his head. "We're not going."

"What?" Wash cried. "You have to go."

"Not really."

"We can't infiltrate Headquarters with just three people," Wash retorted. "You're coming and that's an order."

"Order?" Grif scoffed. "You're not our Commanding Officer. We don't even know what rank you are."

"I'm a Freelancer!"

"Not a rank, dude," Grif replied.

"The other Freelancers never gave orders," Simmons agreed. "They just offered to trade favors."

"Okay, then," Wash sighed reluctantly. "Let's bargain. What do you want?"

The Reds went behind the Warthog and had a quick discussion for two minutes then they came back.

"Alright, we talked about it," Sarge told Wash. "And we figured out what we want."

"Alright, let's have it," Wash said.

"We want you to demote Grif," Sarge said.

With a nod, Wash stepped towards Grif and ripped the Sergeant stripes off his shoulders. "Done."

"What!?" Grif screamed.

"Another wasted opportunity," Simmons chuckled.

"Congratulations," Wash told the orange Spartan, tossing the stripes into the river. "You are now _Private_ Grif again."

"Got anything lower?" Sarge asked.

"Um… Private _Junior_ Grif?"

"I was thinkin' something with an insulting adjective or maybe a demeaning adverb…"

"How about… Minor _Junior_ Private Grif, Negative First Class?"

Sarge chuckled at this. "I like the way you think."

Grif sighed and slapped a hand on his visor. "You realize you just doomed us to certain death just so you could insult me, right?"

"Hey," Sarge replied with a shrug. "If we do get killed, at least we'll go out on a high note. Well, everybody but you; that's to be expected. You haven't had a high note in five years, why break the God damn streak?"

"We still need to figure out how we're getting in there," Wash reminded them.

"Mister Washington," Caboose called out. "I have an idea."

Wash sighed. "I really shouldn't even bother asking, should I?"

"I don't know," Church murmured thoughtfully. "_Caboose?_ An idea? I think he's bluffing."

"No uh, it's a really good idea," Caboose insisted. "We _drive_ there."

"Yeah, he was bluffing," Church groaned.

"Listen," Caboose said. "We're going to Freelancer City, right, the place where Freelancer's from? And this is a Freelancer car! If we think that we are Freelancers, because we are in their car, they will just _let us_ right in!"

"But you don't _look_ like Freelancers, or Recovery Agents," Wash pointed out.

Caboose just jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "They can't see inside of a tank…"

Church and Wash looked round to see a parked Scorpion-Class tank behind Caboose and they stared at each other in amazement…

Two hours later, as sun hung low over the sky like an orange on a string, the two vehicles arrived at the main gate of the Operational Command Center where Project Freelancer started from. Wash drove the Warthog while Church sat next to him in the body of one of the Recovery Agents.

As they waited for the security guard, Church looked at the tank behind him where the Reds and Caboose were squashed up with his body inside. "There's no way this plan is gonna work," he muttered.

"Just stay quiet," Wash hissed. "Follow my lead."

Inside the tank, the atmosphere was very tense and extremely claustrophobic.

"Grif, get off me!" Sarge grunted. "You weigh a ton."

"Stop pushing me!" Grif retorted. "OW!"

"Okay, guys," Simmons yelled. "It's hard enough to fit in here- WHOA! Who did that?"

"Alright, whose hand was that?" Grif shouted. "Is Donut in here?"

"I can't breathe," Caboose gasped.

Outside, the guard approached Wash and Church. "Alright, your story checks out," he told them. "It looks like there was a new incident at Outpost 17-B. I'm glad you fellas made it out okay."

"Yeah, thanks," Wash replied.

"Yeah, it was crazy," Church agreed solemnly. "We lost a lot of good men, especially Joe, Joe Johnson. He was a great guy. I remember he had a girl back home named… uh, Fritzy."

"Stop embellishing," Wash hissed out the corner of his mouth. "They already believe us."

"He also had a dog named Mister Chomps," Church added. "Anyway he's dead now, it's sad."

"You're clear now," the guard said, stepping back towards the security building. "So drive on to Building 3."

"Understood," Wash replied. "Thanks, soldier."

As they watched the boom raise, Church chuckled to himself. "I can't believe that worked."

"Yeah," Wash agreed unsurely. "It seemed like it was too easy."

"Wash, you're gonna learn when you work with us, there's no such thing as too easy," Church sighed. "You're just being paranoid."

Wash thought for a moment then he shrugged. "Yeah, you're probably right."

As the boom reached its zenith, Church waved to Caboose that he can follow and they drove off into the complex, completely unaware that clinging to the back of the tank, a sinister grin on his face, was the Meta…

* * *

**Uh oh, this is not going to be good.**

**SHOCK-O-METER READING: 7**


	16. Chapter 15

**Now we're prepared for the next stage of the assault on Command.**

* * *

Chapter 15

_Dear Director, _please_ do not attempt to recast this investigation as some type of personal vendetta. Our questions to this point have been fairly standard. Your reactions have not. As such, we have secured all your records and logs by the authority granted us by the UNSC. Now we shall see exactly what it is, that you have to hide._

Once inside the complex, Washington and Church helped the Reds and Caboose to get out of the tank and Church reclaimed his body. Then Wash led them down the corridor towards a nearby control room.

"Alright, we got in," he informed them. "But that's only part of our mission, so no celebrating yet."

"Aw shit," Grif groaned. "And I was gonna be in charge of confetti."

"We still need to reach the AI storage facility," Wash continued. "Security's tight since the Freelancers tried to break in there."

"You mean when they tried to steal the Alpha before?" Church recalled.

"Exactly," Wash confirmed.

"The Freelancers tried to break into their own command facility?" Grif scoffed. "That's dumb."

"That's what we're doin' right now, you jackass," Simmons retorted.

"So? Just because _we_ do something doesn't make it smart."

"Tell me about it," Simmons sighed, rolling his eyes.

"I have the necessary clearance to get close to the storage hall," Wash explained. "The plan is, I'll take Church as a prisoner. If I take more than one of you, it won't be believable."

"Agent Washington, I want you to take me instead," Caboose volunteered.

"What are you talkin' about?" Church asked.

"I will be your prisoner," Caboose replied. "Let Church go. He doesn't have anything to do with this!"

"Caboose, I'm not actually going to _be_ a prisoner," Church sighed. "I'm just gonna pose as one so that we can get past-"

"Have a good life, Church," Caboose sobbed. "Don't worry, I won't tell them anything. They won't get any information out of me, no matter how nicely they ask."

"Oh my God, just shut up!" Church snapped.

"Sacrificing himself for his CO, what a good soldier," Sarge commended. "Why can't you two be more like him?"

"What, brain-dead?" Grif joked.

"I would sacrifice Grif for you, Sir," Simmons replied.

"I knew you would, Simmons," Sarge chuckled. "But it's just not the same thing."

"No, but seriously I would," Simmons said eagerly. "Just give me the word. I'll do it right fucking now, let's go. Bring it."

"Why are you taking _Church_?" Grif asked Wash. "What about the rest of us?"

"We're sneaking past seven levels of armed checkpoints," Wash replied. "Are you volunteering?"

Grif went pale under his armor. "Uh, it was a hypothetical question?"

"The rest of you hole up and wait for us to finish," Wash told the others. "And don't touch anything."

"How will we know when you're done?" Sarge asked.

"When you see every guard in the base running in one direction, that means we're probably in trouble," Wash replied.

"All the guards?" Church squeaked in terror. "W-W-Wait, w-why are we taking Church, again?"

"Just keep the guards off of us and we'll radio when we're in position," Wash informed them. "This will be our extraction point."

"Keep them off you?" Grif asked.

"Yeah," Wash replied.

"Distract them, dipshit," Church added.

"How?" Grif asked.

Wash gave a cheeky smirk as he led Church out of the control room. "Well, this _is_ the center that came up with all the ridiculous scenarios you guys have suffered through over the years. So have fun. Break some shit."

Soon, Wash and Church made their way to the main checkpoint of Command. Wash kept his battle rifle trained on Church who had his hands behind his head. As they approached, the two guards at the door stepped forward.

"Hold on, don't come any closer," one guard ordered. "I need you to stay right there, Sir."

"Understood," Wash replied. "I need access to the next level. The Counselor wants to interrogate another survivor from Outpost 17-B."

"What?" the second guard cried. "I thought all the Blues at Valhalla were dead. Where did this one come from?"

"I don't have to explain anything to _you_, soldier," Wash retorted. "Stand down."

"Sorry Sir," the second guard mumbled. "I didn't mean anything by that-"

"Fine," Wash cut in. "I'll let it go. As you were."

"Something doesn't seem right to me," the first guard scowled. "I'm gonna have to call this in."

"Absolutely, call it in," Wash replied, stepping slowly to one side. "Let me just- _NOW!_"

With that, he raised his battle rifle and took out the first guard. Church then drew out the pistol he'd held behind his head, dropped to one knee and emptied his entire clip at the second guard at point blank range… but every single bullet missed their mark.

Church gave an awkward cough. "Uh, hey, can I get a little help, I'm… out of bullets."

Wash sighed and shot the second guard dead.

"Thanks," Church muttered, getting back up.

Wash just rolled his eyes as they set off into the next level.

Back at the control room, the Reds and Caboose waited tensely for any word from Church or Wash. Sarge paced up and down the room, Grif and Caboose sat in total silence and Simmons looked out the window, watching at the patrolling Recovery soldiers on the twilit plains.

"That patrol was seventeen minutes late," Simmons muttered. "Who's running this place? How inefficient. Sloppy…"

Sarge then sighed and stopped pacing. "I'm bored outta my gourd."

"So what?" Grif asked. "Bored is good. Bored means we're not dying. Boredom, I can deal with. I have years of practice."

"Yes, Grif talked!" Caboose cheered. "I won! I won the 'who can be the quietest' game again."

"Yeah, good job," Grif chuckled. "That's ten in a row for you, Caboose. Hey, you know what? We should play again, best eleven out of 21."

"Yes. You're all going down," Caboose jeered then he sat back quietly and Grif did the same.

"We should try holding our breath next," Simmons sighed.

"Well, that's it," Sarge yelled. "I can't stand sitting around. I'm going mad with anticipation."

"We've only been here twelve minutes," Simmons told him.

"Are you sure?" Sarge glanced at the display screen on his left arm. "My mission clock says three days."

"That's because you wouldn't synchronize at the start of the mission, remember?" Simmons sighed. "I said we should synchronize and you said 'why would we synchronize? It's like we're in the future, seeing what the enemy does before they do it. Why would we give up the advantage?'"

"Come on, Simmons, who could possibly remember an annoying conversation we had three whole days ago?"

"Twelve minutes ago."

"Grif, what's your clock say?"

Grif glanced at the screen on his wrist. "Um, actually mine's a countdown to the next episode of Battlestar Galactica. Priorities, dude."

"Aha, I just won again!" Caboose yelled. "Man, you guys are really bad at this game. It-it's like you're not even playing at all!"

Down in Command, Washington and Church had reached the seventh level of the complex. Amazingly, they had no other resistance since the first door, which was just as well because between Church's terrible aim and Wash's shortage of ammo, they wouldn't have stood much chance.

They walked along the corridor until Wash stopped by one door. "Here, this is it," he told Church.

He placed his hand on the scanner and the door slid open. As they stepped inside, Church stared around in amazement. "Whoa…"

The room they were in was huge, at least a third as tall as the bases at Valhalla and twice as wide as the windmill at Zanzibar. All along the walls, huge glowing panels bathed the room in a deep blue light, and small holograms dotted the chamber.

"What is this place?" Church breathed.

"It's the storage facility for all the AIs," Wash explained. "The rejects, the bad variants… everything is here. Everything..."

"Dear lord, what are all these lights on the walls?" Church asked.

"It's holographic storage."

"And one of these things is Alpha?"

Wash didn't reply straight away. "You work on closing that door," he ordered. "I'll find what we're looking for. And when I do, every soldier on base is sure to come running, so be ready."

Church nodded and set to work on the door. Wash meanwhile strode past the lights on the wall, looking at each and every one of the AIs stored inside.

As he searched, he could hear little voices calling to him, begging him to install them into his armor. "_Washington…_" "_Washington…_" "_You suck…_" But he ignored every one of them.

Time passed…

Church was fiddling with one of the holograms when he heard Wash call to him, "Church, I got it. Get over here."

Church ran over and saw Wash standing next to one panel of lights that was marked with the symbols of Grecian numbers. "Here, this is it, there," Wash said.

"Oh great," Church called. "You found it already?"

He stepped a little closer, but just as he did, the panel flashed out with a reverberating boom and Church felt a stabbing pain shoot through his mind. "AH!"

"What's wrong?" Wash cried.

"Nothing," Church grunted. "I just had like a weird flash-" But then another pain hit his mind, this one sharper than the last. "ARGH! AHHH!"

"Are you alright?" Wash asked concerned.

"Yeah, I think it's this thing," Church panted, pointing at a purple object in the wall that was marked with a symbol that looked like a wide 'E'. "It's like, sending out images. Is this the Alpha?"

"No," Wash replied grimly, removing the object from the wall. "This is _not_ the Alpha."

"No?" Church cried. "Then what is it?"

Wash placed the object on the floor and gave it a gentle pat before replying. "This… is Epsilon. This is my AI."

* * *

**Whoa, I did not see that coming.**

**SHOCK-O-METER READING: 10**


	17. Chapter 16

**And now dear readers, get ready for the moment that will change everything you thought you knew about Red vs. Blue, the ultimate twist in this tale.**

* * *

Chapter 16

_Dear Chairman, I imagine this investigation of our program is providing you with the kind of attention that politicians crave so much. How very predictable. What has surprised me most about mankind during the Great War is not our ability to adapt to the new arenas of conflict, but instead our willingness in victory to so quickly return to the old._

Church stared at the object for a moment and then glared at Washington. "You mean to tell me we've come all this way for _this?_ Your fucking crazy AI Epsilon?"

"Yes," Wash replied, getting to his feet. "I thought it was gone. But Delta told you memory was the key. At first I thought he meant to remember out first encounter. And when I met Delta the first time, what I told him was-"

Church gasped as a memory flashed through his mind…

"_You were encrypted until you could be recovered," Wash explained._

"_Recovery carries risk," Delta warned. "Destruction ensures that an AI-"_

"_You cost a lot of money, okay?" Wash cut in crossly. "It's cheaper to recover you than it is to delete you."_

_FLASH_

Wash bowed his head. "When they removed Epsilon from me, he was unraveling, casting off all his thoughts. I was sure they had deleted him, but-"

"It's cheaper to store it than it is to delete it," Church recalled Wash's words. "Right?"

"Right."

"But why are we looking for this thing?" Church asked puzzled. "What's the point?"

"The message specifically said that _memory_ is the key. Delta was telling me that Epsilon was still alive."

"And Epsilon is the key?"

"In a way. At the end of the War, things didn't look good for humans. And there were dozens of projects all trying to come up with the magic bullet to win."

"Right." Church nodded.

"Project Freelancer was one of them. They had their research with aggressive AI. But they could only get the one, and they needed more to conduct the experiments. So, they got desperate."

"Right, they tried to… they tried to copy it but they couldn't so they-"

"All AI are based on a human mind, and the Director had a theory. He thought, if we can't _copy_ it, we'll just have to do the next best thing."

Church felt another memory enter his mind and he cried out in pain. "AH!" Then when he saw the memory, he gave a painful gasp. "They- they split it?"

Wash nodded grimly. "Just like a human mind when it's broken, it fragments. It fractures itself to protect itself."

Church was mortified by what he saw in his head. "They _tortured_ it."

"Like reverse engineering a multiple personality disorder," Wash replied sadly. "They presented Alpha with scenario after scenario of stress and danger. When it started to fragment, they harvested those fragments."

"The Freelancer AIs," Church realized.

"Exhorted little fragments of purified compartmentalized emotion. None of them were a full personality. Some were good-"

"Like Delta?"

"Delta was Alpha's logic. It needed to protect itself from analyzing what was happening to it. So it segregated that part of its mind, the part that would be able to understand the horror of what they were doing to it. And when the anger came and threatened to take over, it split that off too. _That_ was Omega, its rage. Gamma was its deceit. Sigma was its creativity. And Epsilon…"

"Epsilon was its memories," Church guessed.

Wash nodded and ran his hand over the storage unit. "And memory is the key…"

In the control room, Caboose had grown bored of constantly winning the "who can sit the quietest" game and went into another part of the room for a quick nap, leaving the Reds to wait around.

"Okay, now _I'm_ bored," Grif sighed. "Simmons, promise to do me a favor. If the madness sets in, just shoot me."

"Do everyone a favor and shoot him now," Sarge muttered.

"Is that an order?" Simmons asked.

"Nah, save your bullets for somethin' worthwhile." Sarge then spotted a nearby computer and an idea came to mind. "Hey Simmons, get over here! Hustle up!"

Simmons looked away from the window, thus missing the shimmering movement zip past, and went over to Sarge. "What's up Sir?"

"You're good with computers, right?" Sarge asked.

"Well, I'd like to think so," Simmons replied modestly. "I mean, there are really all different kinds of skill sets. Like you have your binary computation, you have uh bus transport-"

"Yes or no?"

"Yes."

"Okay, here's what I'm thinkin'," Sarge said with a chuckle. "If this is Command, and these computers have some of those internets installed on 'em-"

"There's just one Internet, Sir," Simmons corrected. "And I don't think it's located inside this building."

"They probably have all the information about everything, right, like in a spreadabase, or one of them ROM things? Datasheet?"

"I'm sorry, was that something I was supposed to understand? Was that even English?"

Sarge pointed at the computer. "Come on, man, you know, like all the mainframes, on the Reds and the Blues, series of Tubes and whatnot."

Simmons frowned. "Ooh-kay, you're using a lot of terms that don't really make sense. I think you're asking me if these computers store all the data on Red and Blue Armies."

"Control-Alt-Bingo," Sarge replied.

"Probably."

"Could you get into it?"

"Yeah, if I had some time…" Simmons flexed his fingers and stepped up to the computer then he paused. "What are you thinking, Sir?"

Sarge gave an evil grin. "Simmons, I want you to erase the Blues."

Simmons' jaw dropped and his eyes were on stalks. "What, you mean like the Blues from our canyon?"

"No Simmons, all of them, gone, erased. As in wiped off the map, kablooie, **terminate process**."

Simmons took in a shaky breath. "Sir… you just blew my mind!"

Back in the AI storage facility, Washington continued his explanation to Church. "As they continued to torture it, Alpha couldn't keep its sanity and its memories at the same time. So it had to purge them. That fragment became Epsilon, and I was just unlucky enough to have it assigned to me."

"So you knew," Church realized. "You knew from the beginning what was going on."

"Mostly," Wash admitted. "They never told anyone what they did here. I got flashes when they put Epsilon in my head, memories of what the Director did to it."

Another memory flashed through Church's mind…

_The Counselor frowned. "So you would say that you have overwhelming feelings of anger, and a need for revenge?"_

"_More than you know," Wash agreed._

_FLASH_

"Just like you're getting now," Wash told him. "That's why Epsilon went insane, it was meant to. It was all the horrible experiences the Alpha needed to shed to survive. And that's why it had to be removed from me."

"Did you know that you had the memories?" Church asked curiously.

"I never said a word," Wash replied. "But they had their suspicions."

_FLASH_

"_Do you still have yours?" Wash asked urgently._

"_No, Wash, I never had one," South scowled. "I was in the implant group _behind _you, remember? And after what happened to you, nobody got any more."_

_FLASH_

"I would never let them put another AI in my head. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to hide what I knew from another program, which ironically is what led them to think I could be trusted."

"Well, what do we do with it?"

"We take it, and we get it in the hands of someone who can use all its information. Then _they_ can bring down the person responsible for what was done to the Alpha, and to _me_, and to my friends. They can take down the Director."

"But what about the Meta?" Church cried. "How do we stop _him?_ Isn't that the point? I thought only the Alpha could do that. Are we gonna find it or not?"

Wash got to his feet. "No."

"No?"

"After the first attack on Command, they moved it," Wash explained. "They knew the AI would just convince their Freelancers to come looking for it again. So they put it in a place where they didn't think anyone could find it."

"But _where?_" Church yelled. "Shouldn't we be there instead of here?"

Wash sighed and placed his hands on Church's shoulders so he could look into the Blue leader's eyes. "Church, I need you to listen to me. Delta was the logic. He was able to figure out things before anyone else. It's why he left a message for you in a way only you could find, and in a way that let me see you getting it."

"What are you saying?" Church asked.

Wash moved his hands up until they were on the sides of Church's helmet. "I'm saying I know what you are, even if you don't, why you can seemingly live without a body."

"What?" Church gasped.

Wash gave a serious stare. "It's why they stuck you in some useless backwater canyon where no one ever goes, then why they transferred every person in your outpost to a different base than you…"

_FLASH_

"_Then I've been here…" Church did a quick calculation. "…Fourteen months."_

"_What?" Wash cried. "Over a year, by yourself?"_

_FLASH_

"It's why you always agreed with everything Delta said…"

_FLASH_

_Delta glanced down the road with a shudder. "I think we should simply be happy it is gone."_

"_That makes sense to me," Church agreed._

_FLASH_

"Why you didn't feel anything when Omega got inside your head…"

_FLASH_

_Church's eyes flashed red and he looked around in puzzlement. "It feels pretty much the same, that's… that's kinda weird."_

_FLASH_

"Why you can jump from person to person the way it can…"

_FLASH_

"_It all adds up then," Wash muttered. "Omega was the one who inherited that trait."_

_FLASH_

Wash let out a sigh before giving him the ultimatum. "Church, there's no such thing as ghosts. You're one of them. You're an AI. You… are the ALPHA!"

* * *

**DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUNNNNNN! Now that's a shocking moment!**

**SHOCK-O-METER READING: OVERLOAD!**

**Oh no, it's broken the machine!**


	18. Chapter 17

**After the last episode's twist, we bring you a few more surprises.**

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Chapter 17

_Dear Director, it is now clear that your agency and its primary program "Project Freelancer" have abused the trust and freedom that the Oversight Sub-Committee has provided you. Your abuse of the Alpha AI will now become the subject of a criminal investigation. I am sorry Director, __**but you have seen the end of my patience.**_

As Washington's words sunk in, Church just stared at the agent with total silence. Wash slowly moved his hands back to the Blue's shoulders and waited tensely for what Church's reaction would be…

Meanwhile in the control room, Simmons had switched on the computer and gained access to Command's files. Now he was typing on the keyboard as he scanned the screen.

"What're you finding out, Simmons?" Sarge asked.

"It looks like all the Blue records are here," Simmons replied. "I just don't have the access to delete them. I'm trying to work around that right now."

"Ooh, try hacking the mainframe," Grif suggested.

"This isn't a mainframe system," Simmons retorted.

"How about cracking it, would cracking it work?"

"Grif, shut up!" Simmons snapped. "Stop making suggestions when you have no idea what you're talking about."

"Well, if you want help-"

"I _don't_ want help."

"Maybe you should explain what's going on, and I could make an educated suggestion."

"Educated? Okay, fine." Simmons took a step back and pointed at the screen. "_This_ computer is a dedicated interface with a highly developed security protocol. The information _we are accessing_ is stored on a _separate_ database with its own dedicated hardware. _That_ system has its own distinct layer of security. From what I can tell, the two systems verify their identities by trading randomly generated 2,056 bit encryption keys. I'm trying to spoof one of those keys right now. So Grif, I'm all ears," he finished sarcastically. "Any suggestions?"

Grif stared at the screen then he smiled. "Oh yeah, I've seen that before. You should try uploading a virus to the mainframe."

"Jesus," Simmons groaned.

"I find viruses that feature a laughing skull tend to work the best."

"Shut the _fuck_ up and let me work!" Simmons yelled, getting back to his typing.

Back in the AI storage facility, Church let out a sneer and finally gave his response. "You're a fucking idiot," he snapped, pushing Washington back.

"That's not the reaction I expected," Wash admitted.

"You think I'm a computer program," Church scowled.

"Why is that hard to believe?" Wash shouted.

Church ripped off his helmet and pointed at his face. "Uh, how 'bout 'cause I'm a person, that I have been my whole life, that I have memories from when I was a kid? And I don't remember being a calculator, dude."

"AIs are programs based on an actual human mind," Wash explained. "You're bound to have some residual memories. They're just not yours."

Church glared at him. "Oh you're so full o' shit."

"And after what you've been through, it's not hard to imagine you wouldn't-"

"Oh, stop. Jus- give me a break, dude," Church cut in.

"Okay, fine," Wash grunted. "I guess you being a _spirit_ makes more sense."

"Fuck yeah it does," Church retorted. "It's way less geeky, asshole."

Wash raised an eyebrow. "A spirit."

"Yeah, that's right."

"A ghost!"

Church stepped forward until his nose was almost touching Wash's visor. "Boo, motherfucker."

Back in the control room, Sarge looked up from the window. "Simmons, how's your progress?"

"Good, I'm almost in." Simmons then turned to a nearby wall where a small button was flashing. "This blinking light is really distracting me though."

"What is it?" Sarge asked.

Just then Grif came back from the other chamber. "Hey guys, I told Caboose to watch out the windows in the next room. That should give us _some_ relief."

"Good," Sarge replied before turning to his pet private. "Simmons, if that light bothers you so much, just turn it off."

"Hey, I got a great idea," Simmons retorted grumpily. "How about if someone else does something for once. I'm working here!"

"I'll do it," Grif sighed and he stepped up to the wall and pressed the button.

Just then, loud radio noises rang out from a nearby speaker and a voice called out, "Hello! Come in Command! Do you read, Command; why isn't anyone answering?!"

Grif frowned. That voice sounded familiar somehow… "What should I say?"

"Who the fuck cares?" Simmons snapped. "Just get rid of him."

Grif cleared his throat then switched on the radio. "Um, hello, uh this is Command. Go ahead."

"_Finally!_" the voice cried in relief. "Hey, this is a distress call! We need help down here ASAP! Mayday and all that shit!"

"Oh, yeah, uh," Grif muttered. "Sorry dude, there's no one here to take your call right now."

"_What?!_"

"Can I take a message?"

"Dude, that's bullshit. You guys suck."

"Is that the message?"

"No it's not the message, asshole! Tell them we found what we're looking for, and it's under the sand. _Send help NOW!_"

"What the hell is he talking about?" Simmons hissed.

"Who the fuck knows?" Grif whispered back then aloud, "Under… sand… Uh, okay I got it. As soon as they get back, I'll be sure to grab them and uh, slip it to 'em."

"Yeah, slip it to 'em!" the voice cheered. "Bow chicka bow wow!"

Grif's jaw dropped. "What did you say?"

But then an explosion rang through the speakers. "Oh shit, gotta go!" the voice yelled then the line went dead.

Grif turned to his teammates in shock. "Was that who I think it was?"

"Did somebody here just say something?" Caboose called out from the next room.

In the storage facility, Washington picked up a carrying harness from a nearby hook and then turned to Church with a sigh. "Look, you can resist this all you want, but that doesn't change the fact that I need your help to beat the Meta."

"Why me?" Church asked puzzled.

"Who else, Church?"

"Why not Tex? She's a ghost like me. Use her."

"But she's _not_ you," Wash argued. "Even if I could find her, even if she's still alive, I don't think I could trust her. Tex is… confusing. The Director and Counselor always worked so closely with her, she was like… their favorite."

"You sound jealous," Church smirked. "What's the matter, Daddy didn't love you enough?"

"We were a competitive group," Wash admitted, kneeling by the Epsilon unit. "We had to be. But she always had special treatment from our superiors. There has to be a reason for that. She is… she's… I don't know what she is."

"What, you don't know something?" Church cried. "I thought you knew everything."

"No, Church, I _don't_ know everything." Wash loaded the unit into the harness then got to his feet. "You're not going to get the answers you want. But what I do know is that the Meta and this program are an enormous danger to everyone. And we just need to do what's expected of us. Do you think you can-"

Suddenly a loud alarm started blaring all around the chamber.

"Oh great!" Church yelled. "What is _that_?"

"We've been found out!" Wash whipped out his battle rifle and ran for the entrance. "Quick, grab Epsilon. I'll lead us out. Keep your head down."

"Okay," Church muttered, putting his helmet back on and pulling the harness onto his back. "But if this fucking thing sends out any more images, I'm gonna throw it in the nearest trash can."

The alarm rang out across the complex and into the control room where the Reds were waiting.

"Does anyone else hear that?" Caboose yelled, running into the room.

"Yes, we all hear it, Caboose," Grif retorted.

"Simmons, did you do that?" Sarge accused.

"I don't think so," Simmons muttered nervously. "I hope not."

Caboose then looked out the window at the darkened plains and gulped. "Uh, Red guys… some white guys are coming and they look mad."

To drive the point home, one soldier flung a plasma grenade at the building and the explosion rocked the room.

"Really mad," Caboose finished.

"Grif, close those shutters!" Sarge ordered.

"On it!" Grif slammed his hand on a nearby button and heavy steel shutters slid over the windows, leaving a little slit to the world outside.

"Here, I got it!" Simmons yelled as data began to scroll up on the screen. "This is every bit of information about the Blues and their soldiers!"

"Can you erase it?" Sarge asked.

"I _can_," Simmons replied slowly. "But Sarge, maybe we should think about this for a moment. What happens if we delete the Blues?"

"It means they never existed," Sarge replied resolutely.

"But did you ever stop to think," Simmons insisted, "what does it mean to be Red if there's no Blue? If they never existed, what's the purpose of even _having_ a Red Army if there's no one for us to fight? Do you understand what I mean? It's like flip sides of the same-"

But Sarge just pushed him aside and pressed a button on the keyboard. At once, the data disappeared and the screen flashed the words "Blues deleted".

"-coin," Simmons finished.

"What it means is what it's always meant," Sarge said with finality. "We rule, they suck. Don't overanalyze it, you pussy."

"Oh my God," Grif cried out. "Where's Caboose?"

Sarge and Simmons looked round and saw there was no sign of the Blue soldier anywhere.

"What in the…?" Sarge breathed.

"Where did he go?" Simmons then gasped in horror. "You don't think that deleting him from the computer somehow altered the fabric of reality and removed him from-"

"Hey guys," Caboose called out, running back into the room. "I was just tryin' to find the bathroom. Church always has me go before a big battle, he hates when I ask to go in the middle of one."

"Oh…" Simmons sighed.

"Did you want to finish your thought, Simmons?" Sarge asked.

"Naw, that's okay, I'm cool."

"Come on dude," Grif egged on. "Tell us more about the reality-bending computer. I'm _hanging_ on your every word."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Sarge then looked up at the ceiling. "How do we turn this damn alarm off? Maybe it's one of those clap things." He clapped twice and the siren stopped. "There we go."

* * *

**Really? We don't have computers that alter time and space, but you still shut off alarms by clapping?! This is supposed to be the future, dammit!**


	19. Chapter 18

**We are now just two episodes away from finishing the first part of the trilogy.**

* * *

Chapter 18

_Dear Chairman, I don't give a __**damn**__ about your committee and its opinions of my work. Have you forgotten Sir, we were at _war_; a fight with an alien race for the very survival of our species? I feel I must remind you that it is an undeniable, and may I say a _fundamental_ quality of Man, that when faced with extinction, _every_ alternative is possible._

Down through the passageways Church and Washington ran with several armed soldiers in hot pursuit. Church had to swing the harness around so the Epsilon unit wouldn't get hit by the bullets fired at them.

At last they reached the rendezvous at the control room. "Get that door!" Wash yelled as they ran in.

Church elbowed a nearby button and the door slammed shut behind him. He then ran after Wash as he met up with the Reds and Caboose. "What's the status up here?"

"Fucked up, 'bout to die, Simmons is a nerd, the usual," Grif replied.

"It looks like we've got at least half a dozen squads out there," Sarge explained. "They know our position, and we're outgunned."

"So what's the plan?" Wash asked.

"Well, we _were_ gonna retreat down the hall until you just brought more guards up that way," Sarge replied with a glare. "So now the plan's pretty much to go down swinging. You first."

Grif turned to his teammate in panic. "Hey Simmons, can you get back on that computer and change my affiliation from Red to Freelancer?"

"Traitor," Simmons scowled.

"Hey, you gotta go with the winner," Grif replied with a shrug.

Caboose jumped in too. "Um, could you change my job title to something more important like astronaut- _oh I know_, Space Marine!"

"What are you idiots doing?" Church demanded.

"This computer has all of Command's records," Simmons replied.

"It does?" Church cried. "Records on everybody?"

"Yeah, you know, theoretically…" Simmons quickly pressed Alt-Tab on the keyboard and changed the image on the screen to something mundane to hide the "Blues deleted" words. "Do-be-do-be-doo, nothin' to see here…"

"Oh great," Church said, grinning at Wash as he stepped towards the computer. "Now I'll _show_ you that you're wrong."

"What an excellent idea," Wash muttered.

"Wrong about what?" Simmons asked puzzled.

"Wash has been trying to convince me that I'm an AI," Church explained.

"Huh?" Grif cried. "Why would he do that?"

"Because he's transparent," Wash replied as if it was obvious. "He can take over other people, you know, _that_ kind of stuff."

"That's because he's a ghost, dude," Grif said.

"Thank you," Church beamed. "That's what I said."

"If he's a ghost, then why aren't any of the _other_ soldiers turning into ghosts?" Wash pointed out.

"Okay, fine," Church snapped. "Why don't we just settle this? Simmons, look me up in the database."

"Yeah, I'd like to help," Simmons muttered nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "But we may have just kind of, you know, deleted all that stuff for the Blues."

Wash was stunned. "All of _what_ stuff for the Blues?"

"The… everything stuff?" Simmons replied sheepishly.

While Church checked the computer, Wash glowered at the Reds. "Didn't I tell you not to touch anything?"

"Yes," Simmons answered slowly. "_But_ you also told us to break stuff. This seemed like an excellent compromise."

As Church stared at the words on the screen, he let out an angry sigh. "Alright, great, that's fantastic. Now I can't prove him wrong, _and_ I don't get a paycheck. Fucking great, thanks guys."

"And your side never existed, which means Red wins!" Sarge crowed. "Suck it, you non-existent losers!"

"Oh, nobody gives a fuck about that," Church dismissed crossly.

"Sour grapes," Sarge muttered.

"No way," Grif argued with Wash. "He's not a computer."

"How can we be sure?" Sarge asked.

"Maybe we should ask him something only a computer would know," Caboose suggested.

"Like what?" Simmons asked.

Caboose thought for a moment. "What's nine times eight?"

"72," the Reds replied.

"Oh my God, it's spreading," Caboose gasped.

"How 'bout this?" Grif suggested. "Show me some porn."

"What?" Church, Caboose and Sarge spluttered.

"That's what all _my_ computers do," Grif replied. "Oh, oh, uh steal some music for me. Or uh, talk about politics and bore the shit out of me."

"Do you have any pictures of cats in serious situations?" Caboose added.

"Cut it out," Wash butted in. "Because of the trauma he's been through, he's not going to be able to access most of his functions. He may not even realize his full potential."

"Not living up to his full potential?" Sarge scoffed. "That means Grif's a computer too."

"It doesn't matter," Wash snapped. "We don't need him to believe, until the next time we encounter the Meta."

Right on cue, there was a loud bang on the ceiling as something landed on the roof. Wash looked up in alarm. "What the hell was that!?"

"Come on, do you even need to ask?" Sarge muttered.

Outside the building, the Recovery soldiers stopped firing and stared at the roof in horror… as a white-and-brown armored figure appeared from nowhere, wielding an enormous gun with a huge blade on one end and snarling sinisterly.

"Primary target has arrived," the commanding officer announced. "Engage, _engage!_"

At once, the soldiers turned their attention on the figure, but it suddenly zipped away with superhuman speed and leapt into the troops, plunging his blade straight into the CO's chest. With a roar of triumph, it raised its brute shot and opened fire!

Inside the building, Church watched the slaughter in horror. "The Meta! How'd he get inside the compound?"

"What do you mean how?" Simmons yelled. "It took us like ten minutes, it's not that hard."

As Washington observed the battle, a smile crossed his face. "Perfect."

"_Perfect?_" Church gasped.

Wash nodded. "He's been following me since I found Caboose. I knew he couldn't resist getting his hands on all the stored Command AIs, especially Epsilon."

"You knew about this?" Church cried.

"_Knew_ about it? I _planned_ on it." Wash turned to face Church. "You still have Epsilon?"

"Yeah, of course," Church replied, patting the harness on his back.

"Good, let's get it to safety…" Wash glared at the Meta outside before running out the control room. "Then we can finish this… once and for all."

"You know, I'm starting not to trust you," Church scowled as he and Caboose set off after him.

"What do you mean startin' to?" Sarge asked, leading the Reds out.

Wash led the group through the hallways until they reached a huge room filled with various vehicles; Warthogs, Scorpion tanks and Mongoose ATVs.

"What is this, the motor pool?" Grif asked.

"Yes," Wash confirmed, running up to the jeeps. "It looks like everyone is outside fighting the Meta. Still, be careful." He then turned and issued his orders. "Reds, you grab a vehicle. Caboose, somehow I hate to ask this but, can you drive?"

"Yes," Caboose replied. "But not an automatic, only stick."

Wash frowned. "Why can't you drive-"

"We're in a rush," Grif yelled. "Come back to it later."

"Right," Wash agreed. "Caboose, grab that car. Church, put Epsilon in Caboose's jeep. You guys are gonna make a break for it. Take Epsilon and turn him over to the authorities. They'll know what to do with him."

"You're not comin'?" Sarge asked.

"No, Church and I are staying," Wash replied as Grif and Caboose leapt into two parked Warthogs. "Project Freelancer had one last resort failsafe: a high power EMP that can wipe out all the AI in this facility. Now that the Meta is here, we have a chance to take them all out at once and put this entire project out of commission."

Grif looked confused. "What's an EMP?"

"It's an electro-magnetic pulse," Wash explained. "It wipes out all circuitry and computers it touches. It will destroy the AI-"

"Oh, you mean an Emp," Simmons interrupted.

"Yeah, I was just about to say," Sarge agreed. "It sounds like he's talkin' about an Emp."

"Emp?" Wash cried. "That's not how you say it."

"That's how most people say it. Emp."

"No they don't."

"I say it that way," Church put in.

Wash scowled. "It's initials for Electro, Magnetic, Pulse. That's E-M-P."

"Right, which spells Emp, duh," Grif replied.

Wash let out a sigh. "We don't have time for this. You're wrong."

"Why don't we take a vote?" Simmons suggested.

"A vote?" Wash spluttered. "No. No vote, you're just wrong. There's no vote, it's EMP."

"Not very democratic," Caboose murmured.

"Being wrong isn't a democracy," Wash retorted. "Church and I will work our way down to the Director's lab while the _rest_ of you escape."

"What if the Meta follows _us?_" Sarge asked nervously.

"No chance. There's no way he can pass up all the AI in here." Wash turned to Church. "Put Epsilon in the car and let's get going."

Church removed the harness from his back, placed it in the seat next to Caboose then turned to look at Wash. "I'm leaving. I'm going with them."

Wash gasped in alarm. "What?"

"Wash, I don't give a shit about any of this," Church replied. "I hate you, I hate the Freelancers, I hate everything about you guys. This isn't my fight, it's yours."

"It's your fight more than anyone else's!" Wash yelled.

"I don't care _what_ you say," Church snapped, climbing in next to Caboose. "No, it isn't."

Wash ran forward and grabbed the Blue leader's arm. "Church, you'll never get another shot at fixing all of this."

Church turned to look at him and Wash stared back with pleading eyes. "I know you don't believe what I've told you, but you need to ask yourself, what if I'm right? If I am, or if you have _any_ doubts, then not finding out will haunt you for the rest of your life; not just finding out about _you_, but finding out about everyone close to you as well."

Church looked towards the garage door then back at Wash as he sighed. "It's your choice. What's it going to be?"

* * *

**This has to be the trickiest dilemma ever faced in the history of Red vs. Blue.**


	20. Chapter 19 and Epilogue

**The tension has been building up to this so here it is; the action-packed and somewhat shocking conclusion to Reconstruction!**

* * *

Chapter 19

_To the Director of Project Freelancer_

_I write to inform you that by the authority of this sub-committee, officers have been dispatched to place you under arrest and we expect your full co-operation. _Congratulations_ are in order, I suppose. When they write the new morality protocols for dealing with AI, I'm certain they will name _entire sections_ of the doctrine after you. It seems that you will earn your place in history after all, **dear Director.**_

In the moonlit grounds of Command, the soldiers kept up their attack against the Meta, but it was clear that they were fighting a losing battle…

Down in the motor pool, the Reds and the Blues were preparing to make their escape.

"Alright, stick to the plan," Washington informed them. "Just run, get Epsilon out of here. Turn it over to the authorities the first chance you get."

"Sarge, shouldn't we help him?" Simmons asked his CO. "He won't stand a chance against that thing."

"We have our orders, Simmons," Sarge sighed. "We have to think about the mission."

"Finally an order I can follow," Grif muttered. "Run away and live."

"If Agent Wash wants to face him alone, that's his business," Sarge added.

"Yeah, but he _doesn't_ wanna face him alone. It's just that **some people** won't help him." Simmons glared at Church who was still sitting next to Caboose, staring stoically at the garage door.

"That's not our business either." With that, Sarge leapt into the passenger seat and Simmons took his position behind the turret.

"Just drive," Wash told them, running to the garage opener. "When the EMP goes off-"

"You mean the Emp," Caboose corrected.

"Stop it. It will destroy Epsilon if you're not far enough away."

Caboose nodded solemnly. "You got it, Mister Washington."

"Take care of yourself, guys," Wash said with a nod at Church. "I know that's one thing you're good at."

With that, Wash pressed the button and the door slid slowly open.

"He's gonna be on you as soon as you clear the gate," he warned the Reds. "Be ready to move. Protect the Blues' vehicle at any cost."

"Protect the Blues, right, yeah," Sarge muttered. "We'll get riiight on that shit."

Wash gave a solemn salute as the two jeeps drove out the door and into the plains.

Outside, the Meta had polished off the last Recovery soldiers when his motion tracker picked up movement and he turned round to see two jeeps driving out the compound and then stopping.

Just then, he heard Washington's voice calling out, "That's it. Lead the Meta as far away from the base as possible."

The Meta growled angrily. He could hear the AIs in his head calling to him. "_He's tricking you…_" "_Get the AI…_" "_We need them…_" With a nod, the Meta ran off towards Wash.

At that moment, Wash spotted the rogue Freelancer approaching and ran back through the garage into the complex. "I just hope there's enough time…"

Outside, the Reds and Caboose watched as the Meta charged through the open garage door.

"He's fallen for it," Simmons cheered. "Gun it, Grif!"

"Hold on, everyone!" Grif slammed his foot down and the jeep set off into the darkened plains. Caboose set off in pursuit.

Meanwhile, Washington made his way through the corridors, down into the heart of the complex. Eventually, he reached a room with multiple doorways and ran inside to find a huge chamber with a monitor in the ceiling and a computer on the other side.

As he entered, he could hear the PA voice calling out, "Warning: Security breech detected."

Then as reached the middle of the room, a familiar voice called out to him. "Agent Washington, it's good to see you again."

Wash whirled round and realised that the voice had come from the monitor. "Oh hello. Are you somewhere nearby, Counselor, somewhere I can _say_ hello in person?"

"Sorry, Agent Washington," the Counselor replied with no trace of regret. "But we were more than prepared for this… eventuality. I'm afraid we will not be able to see each other in person today."

Wash glared up at the monitor then ran to the computer. "Well then, you'll excuse me if I don't stop to chat. I'm on a timetable."

"There is someone else here who would like to speak with you," the Counselor said.

At once, a new voice spoke out in a subtle Southern accent. "Well, hello, Agent Washington."

Wash looked up again and his eyes narrowed. "The Director himself, I should be honored… I _should_ be."

"Yes," the Director drawled. "I realize it has been a while since we've spoken, David. May I _call_ you David?"

"No you cannot," Wash snapped. "You gave me my new name, the least you can do is use it."

The Director just chuckled. "I am certain you have a lot of questions, Wash."

"Just one," Wash scowled. "How do I turn off this speaker?"

"Warning: Security breech detected."

Wash turned round to see the Meta approaching the doorways. Wasting no time, he pressed a button on the computer pad, and the Meta suddenly bounced off an invisible barrier. With a roar of anger, he started punching the forcefield.

"Well, the prodigal son returns," the Director said with a sneer in his voice. "Agent Maine, you've caused quite a few problems for us. You will **not** be leaving this time."

"I think I've said that myself about twenty times in the last few weeks," Wash informed him. "Good luck holding him."

"You would be surprised _what_ we are capable of, even from this distance," the Director argued. "I suggest you work with us _if_ you expect to survive this."

"I'm sorry," Wash countered, setting to work on the computer. "Did something about my actions indicate I expect to survive?"

Outside, the Reds and Blues had left the compound and were now barreling across the landscape, following the path picked out in the jeeps' headlights.

"Still about half a click to go," Sarge told them. "Step on it!"

Grif gunned the engine harder and Sarge and Simmons had to cling on tight to avoid being thrown out of the vehicle. Behind them, Caboose also increased speed but next to him, the ring on the chain around Church's wrist jostled loose and landed on the Epsilon unit, which started to hum slightly.

Back in the office, Washington worked with feverish speed on the computer. Behind him, the loud explosions told him that the Meta had resorted to firing RPGs at the barrier, but at last he made it through the computer's security protocols.

"Clearance verified," the computer's voice announced. "The failsafe is now online. Awaiting activation…"

"How did you get those codes?" the Director demanded.

Wash just grinned as he pulled off his helmet and tapped the side of his head. "You might be surprised what I know, Director."

"Warning: this is a last resort measure," the computer warned. "Activating the failsafe will destroy all electronic equipment in this facility, including this terminal. Please confirm."

"It was Epsilon," the Director realized. "He inherited the memories, didn't he?"

Wash nodded in confirmation. "I've known about what you did since the moment you implanted him in me."

The Director was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was as cold as the snows in Sidewinder. "Well then, I am very sorry, Agent Washington, but Project Freelancer no longer has need of your services. Program, disable interior shield."

"What?" Wash spun round in time to see the Meta stomping into the room, hissing in victory.

"Agent Maine, please kill Agent Washington," the Director ordered.

Wash ran forward and drew out his battle rifle but the Meta was quicker on the draw, firing his pistol just as it was unholstered. Wash cried out as he felt the bullet hit his side and he stumbled to the ground.

At once, the computer flashed out a warning. "Alert: incoming recovery beacon. Level zero. Immediate response necessary."

As Wash backpedaled away from the approaching Meta, the Director burst out laughing. "Agent Washington, I fear this is _one_ recovery beacon you won't be responding to. Kill him, Agent Maine."

The Meta raised his gun up but then the AIs in his head began to call out. "_Where is it?_" "_Where is Alpha?_" "_Where is he?_"

"The Alpha is not here," the Director barked. "It has been moved far away. **Attend to the matter at hand!**"

"Agent Maine," the Counselor's voice then called. "What the Director's trying to say is we can discuss the Alpha later. What's important is that you prove that you can be trusted again. We need to trust you before letting you meet the Alpha. Wouldn't you agree?"

The Meta nodded with a growl and stepped closer to Wash who had stopped crawling away by a wall, clutching his helmet to his chest.

But as the Meta raised his gun, Wash sat up and smiled. "You know Meta, why wait? Why don't you meet him… right now?"

He tossed his helmet forward and it rolled along the ground, coming to a stop between him and the Meta. Then in a flash of light, a glowing white Spartan appeared above the helmet and sneered at the Meta. "Hi there."

Suddenly the seven AIs that the Meta had stolen appeared around his head, all chattering in amazement. "_It's him!_" "_Alpha!_" "_It's the Alpha!_"

Some distance away, the Reds and Blues had left the plains and were passing through the mountains.

"Caboose, watch out for that rock!" Grif yelled.

Quickly, Caboose swerved away and just glanced off the rock, but the hit was still enough to knock Church out of the jeep.

"Oh no, Church!" Caboose gasped, slamming the brakes.

"What the hell are you doing?" Grif bellowed. "Why are you stopping? Move!"

"His body fell out."

"So what?!"

"He's gonna need it."

Simmons stared at the motionless form. "It's just an empty shell, now get going!"

The Reds drove off, but Caboose held back. He stared at Church's empty body and considered climbing out to get him back, but then he glanced at the Epsilon unit and he knew he couldn't let Wash down…

"Caboose, move it or we're leaving you!" Grif screamed.

With one last glance at Church's body, Caboose sighed, put his foot down and drove off after the Reds.

In the office, Washington took a moment to look at the AIs that the Meta had gathered. He could see the black form of Omega, the sky-blue figure of Gamma, he recognized Sigma, Theta, Eta and Iota and at the back, he spotted Delta who gave him a secret thumbs-up for solving his riddle. He also noticed one whitish figure that seemed very familiar to him, and then he gasped in disbelief. Because, impossible as it seemed, the figure looked just like… Agent Texas.

Church then turned round and looked over at Wash. "You know I can see why you didn't want anyone else in your head. You've got some pretty heavy stuff going on there. I think you need to talk to a professional."

"That's too bad," Wash groaned, struggling to his feet. "I just lost my job, and we have great mental health coverage."

Church then turned to glare at the Meta. "How much time do you need?"

"Whatever you can get me," Wash replied. "When the EMP goes off-"

"When it goes off, I'll be fine," Church reassured. "It only affects computers, remember? And I… am a motherfucking ghost!"

With that, he ran forward and leapt into the Meta's body. At once, the other AIs disappeared after him, although Delta did pause to give Wash a final salute before following.

Suddenly the Meta let out a roar of agony and stumbled back, clutching his head and shaking violently.

"What's going on?!" the Director cried out.

"Agent Washington, please, there is time," the Counselor pleaded. "If you would just secure Agent Maine, we can discuss this situation in a more civilized manner."

"No we can't!" Wash pounced forward to the computer and slammed his fist down on the failsafe button.

"Thank you, failsafe initiated," the computer said. "Activating Emp…"

"_Emp?!_" Wash cried. "You have got to be fucking ki-"

FA-TWOOOOOOOOOOOOM! A pulse of blue energy blasted out from the screen, knocking Wash and the Meta off their feet, and swept through the complex like a tidal wave. All around the building, computers shut down, electric lights sparked and died, and energy weapons fizzled out. The lights in the AI storage facility buzzed and faded away. In the motor pool, the engines in the vehicles erupted into sparks.

In the mountains, Simmons heard a loud explosion and he turned round to see a glowing blue light approaching from the starry horizon. "Here comes the pulse, don't stop!"

Grif hit the pedal but then the light swept over them and Simmons felt a tingling sensation in his cyborg parts. Then suddenly the engine began to spark, the headlights faded and the Warthog ground to a halt. "Ah shit, it stalled!" Grif cried.

"GO, GO, GO!" Sarge bellowed at Caboose who had overtaken them before the EMP hit.

"Get Epsilon out of here," Grif yelled. "Don't worry about us!"

"Okay!" Caboose slammed his foot down, speeding up the jeep, and glanced behind him nervously at the approaching EMP. "I'm scared!"

"Watch where you're going!" Simmons shouted.

Caboose looked around and realized he was heading straight for the edge of a cliff! Quickly he hit the brakes and spun the wheel round but he couldn't stop in time.

"NO!" Grif yelled as Caboose zoomed right over the edge.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Caboose screamed in terror as the jeep plummeted fifty feet into the river below.

As the EMP faded, the Reds ran up to the edge and looked around, but there was no sign of Caboose or the Epsilon unit…

* * *

**Whoa. That's quite a way to end this series… Buuuut I'm not stopping here!**

* * *

Epilogue

_Dear Chairman, I am disappointed by your decision to press charges, but I am not surprised. My only hope is that the courts will see the matters differently than you have. You see, I never had the chance to serve in battle, nor did fate provide me the opportunity to sacrifice myself for humanity as it did for so many others in the Great War. Someone extremely dear to me was lost very early in my life. My mind has always plagued me with the question: if the choice had been placed in _my_ hands, could I have saved her? The memory of her has haunted me my entire life, and more so in these last few years than I could ever have imagined. But given the events of these past few weeks, I feel confident that had I been _given_ the chance, I would have _made_ those sacrifices myself… had I _only_ the chance._

Nearly a week had passed since the assault on Command. At the Red Base in Valhalla, Sarge gathered Grif and Simmons outside.

"Men, I just got word from our _new_ Command," he told them. "They said that thanks to our brave efforts in bringing Project Freelancer to justice, we can have _full use_ of these former bases to continue our training exercises, until such time as they need them for more official purposes, whatever the hell that means."

"Wow, that's great news, Sir," Simmons beamed.

Sarge then stepped towards a gleaming Warthog. "We even got a shiny new jeep, courtesy of the UNSC."

"Yeah," Grif said. "But Sarge, what the hell is- uh, shotgun by the way."

"Shotgun!" Simmons yelled, just too late. "Fuck!"

"What the hell is the UNSC?" Grif asked.

"Dunno, never heard of it," Sarge replied with a shrug. "It sounds made up.

_I know that you disagreed with my methods, and that others will as well. This is beyond my control. However, I cannot imagine that _any_ court would be able to convict me, no matter how low their opinion of my actions might be. You must understand one basic fact for all this to make sense, my dear Chairman. These AI, they all come from somewhere; they are all based on a person. Our Alpha was no exception. And while the law has many penalties for the atrocities we inflict on others, there are no punishments for the terrors that we inflict on ourselves. So you send your men. They won't find themselves a fight. They'll only find an old man; an old man tired, but satisfied he did his duty; an old man weary from a mind more filled with memory, than it is with hope._

On the other side of the canyon, a lone Blue soldier was preparing for a great project. Caboose, who had managed to survive his plunge into the river, marched through the corridors, the Epsilon unit tucked under one arm and the ring on a chain in his other hand. At last he reached a black-armored body lying on the floor and he placed the two objects next to it.

"Okay," he muttered. "Time to see if this works…"

_Sincerely yours, the _former_ Director of Project Freelancer, Doctor Leonard Church_

* * *

**Wow! Now there's a good spot to end the series. So thanks once again to all the readers for following the story.**

**Also, I happen to know there are some of you idiots out there who believe the world is going to end in two days time, so I'll make a deal with you. If the world does come to an end, well, you won't hear anything from me obviously. But if it doesn't (and it won't) then I will post in the next mini-series, Red vs. Blue: Relocated the very next day before going off for the Christmas holidays.**

**So see you then**


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